


Enarrain T'Solos

by Archangel_Beth, ArchangelBeth (Archangel_Beth)



Series: Vulcan Alliance Timeline [1]
Category: Star Trek Online
Genre: Andorians, BEING VERY CLEAR:, Content Warning: Hakeev, Content Warning: Hakeev (abuse), Content Warning: Hakeev (emotional abuse), Content Warning: Hakeev (implied child abuse), Content Warning: Hakeev (implied sexual abuse), Original characters (almost) all the way down, Other, Rihannsu, Romulans, See first chapter (notes and prologue), Strangely lower tech than expected, Tal Shiar, That won't be explained, That's not as glib as it sounds., unexplicit sexual content
Language: English
Status: Completed
Published: 2020-06-01
Updated: 2020-06-17
Packaged: 2021-03-02 20:08:10
Rating: Mature
Warnings: Graphic Depictions Of Violence
Chapters: 54
Words: 78,876
Publisher: archiveofourown.org
Story URL: https://archiveofourown.org/works/24482551
Author URL: https://archiveofourown.org/users/Archangel_Beth/pseuds/Archangel_Beth, https://archiveofourown.org/users/Archangel_Beth/pseuds/ArchangelBeth
Summary: New timelines pop up, and are often destroyed, on a regular basis. It should always be remembered that when a new timeline is created, so is its history.A young Romulan is given command of a tiny reconnaissance craft (aka "spyship"), through nepotism and bribery. It wasn't her idea, but she'll have to prove herself to her patrons — because for the ward of the Director of the Tal Shiar? Failure is never an option.
Series: Vulcan Alliance Timeline [1]
Series URL: https://archiveofourown.org/series/1793815
Comments: 38
Kudos: 8





	1. Notes and Prologue

**Author's Note:**

  * For [sith_shenanigans](https://archiveofourown.org/users/sith_shenanigans/gifts).



_If you are reading this on an app with in-app purchases or subscriptions, know that this story is available at https://archiveofourown.org/users/Archangel_Beth , and Archive Of Our Own ("AO3") permits epub downloads; I like the Marvin app for iOS; small one-time fee, and lovely by-author sorting. If you have paid money for this story, you have been cheated._

* * *

### A Note on Content Warnings

"Trigger Warning: Hakeev" sounds glib. _It is not._ In his canon appearance in STO, he's willing to turn over his own people as sacrifices to the Elachi, use them as test subjects for Borg technology, and brainwash captives (including the player character). Taking his goals and attitudes to logical conclusions, **the fic adds warnings for: abuse, emotional abuse, implied trafficking, outright trafficking, implied sexual abuse, implied child abuse.**

### A Note on Names and Words

"Arrhae," the name of a main character from _The Romulan Way_ , is said to be a common name among the Rihannsu people. The translation in the back of that book may be more succinctly summed up as: "...is not being paid enough for this _hnaev_."

Many Rihannsu words are derived from the library at the Imperial Romulan Language Institute (rehan.org/drupal), which is now only found at the Wayback Machine.

* * *

# The VA Timeline

_New timelines pop up, and are often destroyed, on a regular basis. One need not consider how this one might have come to be — at least, not yet._

When humanity achieved warp capabilities, the Vulcans — desperate for allies in their war with the Andorians — contacted them, and offered an alliance. This would prove fruitful; when the Andorians made an aggressive push, many years later, and successfully blockaded the Vulcan homeworld, Earth was able to become a home to millions of refugee Vulcans, who settled in the more extreme environments of the planet. Vulcan itself remains blockaded, but not invaded; the rest of the population is cut off from space, and any technology large enough to be bombed from orbit, but the Andorians refuse to risk troops trying to pacify their ancient enemies.

Besides, the Vulcan Alliance might invade _them_ if they weren't careful. And, of course, the Romulan Star Empire is always willing to pick up a few unguarded systems of interest...

Now, Alpha (and some of Beta) Quadrant has three main powers:

• **The Vulcan Alliance.** Vulcan captains and primarily human crews, with a smattering of other species with whom they have friendly relations, such as refugee Bajorans.

• **The Andorian Coalition.** Primarily Andorians, with a large contingent of Catians and Ferasan (the first of those to try to leave the Coalition would, naturally, lose the protection of Andoria...), and a smattering of other species.

• **The Saeihr'shiar ch'Rihanh** (aka Romulan Star Empire). Primarily Rihannsu (Romulan); Havranha (Reman); their main client species, Tlhhyngan (tlhIngan, or Klingons); and Turkanan humans.

Lesser powers include the Tellarite-Ferengi association, the Orion Syndicate, Nausicaan pirates, the distant Cardassian Union, etc.

_In any case, it should always be remembered that when a new timeline is created, so is its history..._


	2. Yyaio

* * *

**ch'Rihan, approximately in the year 2392... if this were the main timeline.**

  


The day was fair and nigh cloudless, the sky a bowl of sea-aqua above the farmlands of the estate. Workers toiled in those fields, tending to delicate wine-fruits, visible from the high balcony of the estate's tower. (The uppermost floor was a communications center, but there was no need for such a thing to be ugly, or monopolize such a fine view.)

When the admiral had brought his guests there, they had politely admired the view in question. When he stepped away to give instructions to a servant, one of those guests sneered down at the Klingon workers. "Animals," he said. "Barely fit to serve."

Arrhae T'Solos, the other guest, said nothing, though she thought that if they were animals, they were strong ones, and comfortable in their skins. But when her patron turned away, she followed immediately. It would not do to linger and be chided for being inattentive, or worse, contrary.

Director Hakeev was rarely comfortable in his skin, she thought. Few people were, in her experience, save for brief moments. No doubt he would have said that sort of comfort was only found in animals, and thus a thing to be mastered in civilized Rihannsu — much as he had mastered the polite, guarded conversation he now had with Admiral tr'Llhevil.

Arrhae stood at the proper distance behind her patron: far enough to pretend not to eavesdrop; near enough to attend to instructions without him raising his voice; far enough to keep an eye on the surroundings; near enough to do something about any threats. Her pistol was low-powered, little but a formality, but she had one.

Tal Shiar could carry weapons into the home of an admiral without anything but nervous looks from the servants, after all.

Hopefully those servants hadn't noticed the knife that rode behind her neck, the slight distortion of the uniform obscured by her delicate rank-chain. The special harness beneath the tunic both supported the blade's sheath and served as a reminder to keep her back straight.

Older uniforms had been more roomy than the modern fashion; occasionally Arrhae had a wistful moment when reviewing historical documents. Though the bulky, quilted jackets had been unflattering to anyone — probably why they had fallen out of favor — the potential hiding places for weaponry and other equipment in the sleeves alone...

The admiral's estate was extremely peaceful. To keep her mind from dulling, Arrhae occupied it with hypothetical assassination attempts on the Director. Snipers in the fields, if anyone would impersonate a Klingon — or train one with a plasma rifle. Subversion (or impersonation) of a servant, to deliver poison or a hidden pistol. She dismissed attacks from flyers, as the air was too clear to hide any, and the communications tower was sturdier than it looked, even if they waited till the last moment to enter.

Likewise, she dismissed subversion of the Director's bodyguard. She knew his web of allies. There was nothing she could be offered that would protect her from them, should she be the instrument of his death, and that was assuming treachery was not repaid with treachery and a plasma blast to the back of her head.

Refreshments arrived, and Arrhae turned and intercepted them, scanning the tray's contents before she took it from the servant. "You may withdraw," she murmured, superior-to-inferior. "I will pour the wine."

The man was probably twice her age, and a proper enough bondservant to have his pride. She could see in his eyes how it stung to be given orders by a child such as herself. She returned the gaze implacably, without challenge, running through the possibilities if he objected. If it were physical, she would flip the tray and its contents to him as she stepped back — she had a pace and a half to the table the tray was destined for — and go for her pistol with her right hand. Dagger with the left, if she judged betrayal from the admiral as well, for she would need to shoot him first and fend the servant off with the dagger. (Unless the servant produced a pistol of his own, of course.)

The servant turned, backed away a pace to bow properly, and left. As he passed through the door from the balcony, she thought she heard him mutter " _Yyaio_."

It wasn't the first time she'd been called _Vulcan_ , especially by the curse that meant _dead-souled_ , and she merely waited till the door was closed before she carried the tray to the table and half-filled two of the glasses. The wine was nearly the color of the sky, though shades paler; its scent was sun and flowers laid over the alcohol content. That content was more potent than the hue suggested.

Admiral tr'Llhevil and Director Hakeev sat. Tr'Llhevil turned the third glass upright. "Come, girl, fill one for yourself."

She let her eyes slide to her patron. He was sipping from his glass, not offering guidance or orders. That was enough of a sign on its own. She splashed a finger's width into the third glass and capped the bottle, setting it on the tray and taking up the glass. " _Khlinae rham nnearvha._ " _My thanks to you_ ; more formal than even formality required.

It did not do to stint on formality in Hakeev's household.

"It will be your first command, girl. You should celebrate." Tr'Llhevil drank like a military man: a quick mouthful and savor afterward.

She bowed her head politely, lifted her glass to him, and wet her lips in a feigned sip. Her first command, yes, and one she was not entitled to. Her Tal Shiar rank of _enarrain_ was only barely won by precocious skill, and not at all by seniority. Only being the Director's ward and bodyguard secured it. By all rights, in this time of relative peace, an enarrain would never command even a shuttlecraft, no matter how precocious she was.

But Hakeev had been maneuvering for this boon to his ward. Blackmail, exchanges, promises, and favors — the least of which had been her own skills, in various bedrooms that were not hers. Entitled or not, she would command the ship that would arrive at the landing pad within two hours. And her expectation was that Hakeev would intend her to personally pilot it back into orbit.

She could not afford to risk even a sip of that misleadingly-pale wine.

"Sit, Arrhae," the Director said, waving her at the third chair, which was to one side of him, with the table to his other hand.

She obeyed, of course, as she always did. It did not do to be caught in disobedience. She adjusted her belt, full of pistol, tricorder, and a pouch for a small data-pad, and held the wineglass. Annoyingly, the chair was not placed well enough to seem to be paying attention to the two men while actually watching the door. She did her best. If Admiral tr'Llhevil caused his servants to attack them, she would probably be able to dispose of him first, and possibly even survive if she was lucky.

Director Hakeev handed her a small plate with slices of fruit and bread on it. With no convenient table to her hand, Arrhae set the wineglass beside her chair and balanced the plate on her lap instead. Small favors: he didn't want her drinking, either.

The men continued their discussion, which danced around future favors, future services, future alliances. Tr'Llhevil was Fleet, not Tal Shiar, and had his own constellation of alliances there. It behooved the Tal Shiar to know what those were, even if they could not be manipulated from this single point of the admiral's cooperation. With occasional nibbles of fruit, Arrhae soaked up the information: names of ships and commanders, relationships, officers loyal or notably disloyal within the web that tr'Llhevil fancied himself to control.

When a suitable time had gone by, and conversation had turned to shared grumbles about Praetor Chulan, she slipped the data-pad from its pouch and tapped it on. Concentrating on three things was difficult, but the appearance of study would please Hakeev. And it never hurt to brush up on little things like ship-maps or control-panel layouts.

The sound of the ship came from above. Arrhae glanced up, spotting the dark form and assessing how quickly they would need to take cover if this was not the correct craft.

After a moment, Director Hakeev stood. "We'll go to the landing pad now," he said.

"Of course, Director," tr'Llhevil said, also standing.

Arrhae left her barely-touched plate on the chair's seat as she followed her patron. Whichever servants tidied might filch pieces if they were so inclined. Even in Hakeev's household, that happened often enough.


	3. Fve-Rhi-Sei

* * *

They took the stairs down the tower, rather than the lift. It meant that by the time they'd emerged, the craft had already landed.

It was not a pretty ship, by Rihannsu standards. It was a bit longer than a shuttle, though easily twice as wide, and tall enough to have two low-ceilinged floors within. An impressive sensor array crowned the top of the black-painted hull. The warp nacelles were built into its landing struts; without wings, it looked more like a Vulcan or Andorian craft than a proper Warbird, for even a round-bellied T'Liss had enough space for a painted raptor on it, and stubby wings. But then, technically, this wasn't a Warbird. It was an _observational craft_ , armed with a mine-layer and a turret, equipped with cloaking and a large warp drive. As a near-expendable vessel, it didn't even have a name. The designation was _Imperial Vessel 6-5-3_.

It had a crew of twelve. Four engineers who rotated and overlapped each other's shifts. Four pilots, likewise, which would include the ship's commanding officer. Four dedicated sensor and communications officers, each with their own specialty in another species' language. Andorian, Vulcan, Terran, and Tellarite were all represented on this ship, and Arrhae would have to brush up on the last one to be comfortable double-checking that officer's work. No dedicated medical personnel. Either first aid supplies would be enough, or someone would die.

The entire crew was filing off to present themselves. To Arrhae's secret interest, they were all _short_. At least two of the women might be as short as she herself was, and none of the men were above average height. Perhaps the ceilings were low enough to discomfit anyone taller? That would mean Hakeev — broad-shouldered and taller than many — might not wish to enter.

To Arrhae's further bemusement, it was the tallest of the crew who stepped forward to greet them. (Arrhae had stepped to between the admiral and director, as undoubtedly the crew would misinterpret her bodyguard's positioning as unacceptably meek.) His face was angular, with prominent ridges on his forehead at a steeper slant than usual.

"Vessel _Fve-Rhi-Sei_ , tr'Ronu commanding, sir," he said. "We present ourselves for our new commander, sir."

Tr'Llhevil put a hand on Arrhae's shoulder, between the uniform's point and the rank-chain. "On my authority, your commander is now Enarrain T'Solos, of the Tal Shiar."

Arrhae now knew which of them not to play games of bluffing with, as various expressions of dismay or blankness passed across the crew's faces. She stepped forward, ignoring how the admiral's hand slid down her back to her hip before falling away, and gave a brief, polite nod just shy of a bow. "I greet you all," she said, "and request command."

Tr'Ronu was one of those who apparently did not bluff well. He delayed with the appropriate response, eyes darting from the admiral to Director Hakeev, and finally narrowing at her. Grudgingly, he said, "Greetings, Enarrain," with just enough pause before the rank to give his opinion of it. "I release control of this ship to your authority."

" _Khnai'ru rhissiuy_." _My thanks_ , full and formal, from the other side of status. She turned and gave as much of a bow to the two men as she could, annoyingly standing too close for anything more proper. She knew what her instructions would be, but protocol had to be followed. "Your orders, sir?"

Director Hakeev said, "To orbit, Arrhae, and await further contact from Admiral tr'Llhevil."

"Sir. Admiral." She gave them both bows, waited for their acknowledging nods, and began to turn.

As expected, one of them spoke again. Unexpectedly, it was tr'Llhevil and not Hakeev. "Take him up yourself, girl. See how he handles."

At least _6-5-3_ was enough of a ship to get a pronoun besides "it." She paused, said, "Understood, Admiral," and continued on. As she neared the crew — her crew, now — she said, "We have orders. Go to your stations. I'll take the ship-tour in orbit, it seems."

There was a murmur of "sir" from most of them, a few simple "yes"es, and an "Enarrain" from tr'Ronu.

At least the reports on her crew were fairly clear that none of them were sufficiently connected to be irreplaceable. If he became enough of an annoyance, she could shove him out the airlock and ask if the rest of them wanted to follow.

And yet. That seemed the sort of response that gained only fear-bred loyalty. That was not, she thought, the kind of loyalty that Fleet Commander Donatra possessed, that had let her peel away ships and even planets in the chaos after Shinzon's coup. Perhaps a strategic decompression of someone whom the rest of the crew resented — but the reports didn't give Arrhae such intelligence on the social interlinkings on _6-5-3_. She would have to discover them herself.

Tr'Ronu followed her as she climbed into the ship and made her way to the bridge. It was as cramped as she'd thought it would be, with corridors that required people to turn sideways to pass each other, low ceilings which made tr'Ronu seem taller than he was, and a constant thrum of the engine that occupied the largest room on the ship.

She walked to the bridge without hesitation — not that it was hard to find — and slid into the forward-right seat: the helm. Weapons could be controlled from there, or from the forward-left tactical position. The sensors-and-communication station was behind them both, and occupied more of the compact bridge than the others, with a curving console in front of the seat and a set of displays along the back wall. According to the ship's specs, all the consoles' functions could be accessed from any one of them, in the event of an emergency or only a single person on the bridge — but it was the sensor-operators who had the comfortable location.

Reasonable enough. They had the more fiddly job.

The helm's chair was equipped with safety straps. Arrhae adjusted them and fastened the latches.

At the tactical seat, tr'Ronu said, "You don't trust your piloting, Enarrain?"

She didn't bother looking at him. "I'm giving Director Hakeev and Admiral tr'Llhevil time to get to the balcony to watch our departure. See? They're not at the tower base anymore." She gestured to the display, and then glanced over. Tr'Ronu didn't have his safety harness fastened. "I am pleased to see that you are confident in my skills, however."

He froze, then deliberately shrugged into the harness.

She ignored him, and twisted her head. The on-duty sensors officer was also male, with a rounded face; Arrhae said, "Tr'Dreth, is it?"

"Yes, sir," he said. He'd been one of those whose emotions hadn't shown on his face, and was equally cagey with them in his voice.

"Please tell me when the director and admiral are on the balcony."

"Yes, sir."

"Thank you." _Khnai'ra,_ this time. Less formal, but still a commander's politeness to her crew. It would be unspeakable failure to become a figurehead while tr'Ronu ran things. It would, at the best, mean she would never be allowed such freedom again. At worst...

"Worst" started with beatings, moved to "bondservant," and went down from there.

But at the least, she now had some control over her future. Provided she got to orbit smoothly.

She flicked the switch for engineering. "Is all in readiness? I do not wish this ship to give an embarrassing performance in front of the admiral." Or the Director.

" _Ready, sir,_ " came a woman's reply. Probably t'Saii, if the shift information was accurate, but with three of the four engineers being female, Arrhae would need visuals to be sure.

"Very good," she said, and went over the piloting checklist again in her mind while she waited. The flight plan's permissions were good for the next half-hour, glowing on her console.

Tr'Dreth said, "Cameras have them on the balcony, sir."

" _Khnai'ra_ ," she said again, and flicked the shipwide comm's button. "All crew, departure is immanent."

She had turned her desk into a piloting console before. She had requested, and obtained, time in a holosuite to practice. And while there were several subtle differences... It had been close enough. As smoothly as any flyer, the ship rose under her control. She turned it into the wind, quashed a whim to spiral around the tower on the way up, and simply took the safest direct route to the altitude where the flight plan precluded such fanciful displays.


	4. Khina u'Saevha

* * *

Once in their assigned orbit, Arrhae activated the station-keeping program and watched to determine if it was functioning correctly. The next part would be the tour of the ship that a new commander should have. Technically, tr'Ronu would be the one who should give it, but she didn't trust him to provide all the information she'd want. Unfortunately, she didn't want to leave him with the bridge when the admiral was likely to be giving them some make-work assignment within an hour or two. But if there was any chance of winning him over, would it be helped by entrusting him with the bridge, or by requesting him to show her around the ship?

Tr'Ronu said, "Dreth, show the enarrain around."

Arrhae cocked an eyebrow at him.

He explained, "Station-keeping program usually works fine, but there's an intermittent error we haven't tracked down, and Spacedock says they can't find it, so it must not be there. So it's not in the records for the ship. But it shows up, so one of the pilots needs to be on the bridge whenever we're in planetary orbit."

She turned her eyebrow on tr'Dreth, and the other man confirmed, "That's accurate, sir. We have sensor logs, but we haven't tracked down what triggers the over-compensation. Left to itself, though, the ship starts veering around like he's drunk within a half-hour from the first glitch."

"I see." She unfastened the safety harness. "Tr'Ronu, I'll need a recording of the admiral's orders if they come while I'm elsewhere. I'll have to make a report including them, for Director Hakeev." And hopefully that would keep anyone from trying to alter the instructions to their advantage or her disadvantage.

"Understood, Enarrain."

Perhaps starting her command with a cheerful murder wouldn't be so bad? But no, she hadn't yet discovered if the rest of the crew found him as annoying as she did. Intelligence first. Assassination afterward. She stood, paused a moment to catch her balance in the slightly altered gravity, and gestured for tr'Dreth to lead her out.

Back in the corridor, Arrhae determined that if she recalled correctly, tr'Dreth was the heaviest-set of the crew — which wasn't saying much, as the lot of them ranged from "padded" at most (tr'Dreth, sensors) to nearly emaciated (a pilot, Konra, no clan given). He had the look of someone who would keep candies hidden in the shoulder-points of his uniform.

"You've seen the bridge, sir," tr'Dreth said. "Would you like to see crew-quarters next, or engineering?"

"Engineering," she said, and as he led the way, "Does the bridge have access to cameras for the ship?"

"Ah... no." He was probably swallowing hard in front of her, recalling she was so very _not_ Fleet. "We've had some failures. They're not considered very important, and parts are always in short supply at Spacedock."

Because people kept sabotaging them, or the connections that led to them, and even if Spacedock personnel had been entirely Tal Shiar, they would _still_ have shortages and need to prioritize. "Understood," she said, matter-of-factly, without blame. The report had said the ship was _equipped_ with cameras, but not if they were working, and she'd rather expected they wouldn't be.

His shoulders didn't relax.

The trip was short, barely long enough for her to wonder if she should ask tr'Dreth what his preferred form of address was — for tr'Ronu had called him simply _Dreth_ — and decide that, for now, it was better to continue with formality. Asking subordinates for their preferences, in Tal Shiar ranks, was often considered a weakness, and even if Fleet officers didn't count it as such... There would be another spy somewhere on the ship. Her performance would be assessed. Their reports would be compared. Deviating from expected behavior without first having it approved by her guardian would not be regarded well, for there would be no time to refute that "good results" had been obtained and so justify the judgment call.

Tr'Dreth opened the hatch into Engineering, which turned out to double as a single-person airlock. Presumably it was to allow suiting up in case of problems between the sections, and brought home that the ship was too small — or too inexpensively-built — to have forcescreens for such occasions. As there were apparently no problems, he held the first hatch open for her to follow, even as he opened the second. Then he stepped aside.

She let the hatches slide shut behind her and took in the Engineering section. For something that occupied so much of the ship, it almost felt smaller on the inside with how cramped it was. The great rotating singularity-containment unit had perhaps a meter of clearance at the narrowest, and not quite two meters at the widest. The walkways nearby had railings to prevent accidental tumbles into the whirling rings, but there were no ramps or stairs, only ladders. Some of the consoles that dotted the walls seemed only accessible from a ladder beside them.

A woman appeared at Arrhae's side. "Sir," she said, her voice matching the one from over the comm earlier. Her face was oval, with barely-visible ridges on her forehead, and her short hair was surprisingly curly — distinctive enough to confirm her identity.

"T'Saii," Arrhae said in return. "Are there any foibles of the engines or singularity that are not in the reports?"

"Ah. They told you about the station-keeping glitch." At Arrhae's nod, t'Saii continued, "It's not mechanical, if that's what you're asking, sir. We've been over the maneuvering thrusters enough times we could repair them in our sleep. We've replaced every dubious part we could, and checked with other spy-ships to see if they're having similar problems. Mostly they're not."

"Mostly?"

"Mostly. Spacedock doesn't believe _them_ , either."

"Which other ships?"

"Six-five-seven, six-five-nine, and six-five-ten. Six-five-five says they had it early on, but it went away sometime when they were spying on the Imperial State. The others... we have it crop up most frequently, usually after no more than six hours. They can go days without seeing it."

"As we no longer have an Imperial State to spy on," Arrhae said, "I don't think I can fix it that way, unfortunately. Is there anything in Engineering I need to be aware of?"

T'Saii shook her head. "Just that the glitch isn't our fault back here. We're within specs."

"Understood. Thank you."

As Arrhae was turning her head to indicate tr'Dreth should resume the ship-tour, t'Saii added, "And before you ask, sir, it's quarter-human, not half."

Gesturing to tr'Dreth, Arrhae said mildly, "I know." Then she continued on. It had, after all, been in the reports: an agent spying upon the Vulcan Alliance had returned, pregnant. The half-human result had been t'Saii's mother. The ill-tamed ringlets they both shared prevented either woman from going unnoticed, and obviously had gotten t'Saii enough commentary that she was preemptively defensive.

There were two hatches that led from Engineering to the crew quarters — one at the lower level, and one at the upper. Tr'Dreth went to the lower one, which also held a tiny air-lock, and Arrhae followed him.

The lower level of the crew quarters held two bunkrooms, which she knew would have three cots each; the single bed of a closet-like Medbay; a 'fresher unit that doubled as a shower; and the elongated recreation area. That mostly held a small table suitable for games of bluffing, a pair of treadmills, and a weights-device. The table was occupied by two of the other crew — both female. The startlingly buxom one was Jaeil — a sensors officer with no clan name given — while the other... could have been either of t'Raedheol or t'Tei, the other two female engineers.

The pair of women watched as Arrhae moved to inspect the exercise gear. All of it seemed bolted to the floor, which was probably safer, but meant there would be no shifting it around for sparring or swordplay exercise. A pity. Sword-practice was one of the few times Arrhae felt truly comfortable in _her_ skin.

She gave the pair another thoughtful look, and the engineer sighed and shoved up her straight-cut bangs, revealing an old scar that had taken a chunk out of her forehead ridge above her left eye. In something just shy of a growl, she said, "Satisfied?"

Arrhae replied, "Thank you, t'Raedheol." She considered chiding the engineer for her tone of voice, but decided against escalating the matter so soon. If being calm and mild didn't unnerve the crew enough to make them polite, that would be when to take the matter up. One could always escalate from calmness; stepping back from anger held too many dangers.

She nodded to the other woman, who had said nothing, said, "Jaeil," and moved to the door. "The upper level now, I believe?"

"Sir," tr'Dreth said, and moved for the inset ladder between the two bunkrooms. Arrhae followed; the rec-room door slid shut without either of the occupants making any further remarks.

The ladder had a sliding panel that allowed access to the corridor that she'd first used to get to the bridge, so not everyone would have to go through Engineering or the bridge to reach the main airlock. Or, perhaps, people might avoid brushing past each other in the hall; on a ship this tiny, with this many crew, the ability to avoid someone would be a prize greater than any chain of cash.

The upper level was much the same as the lower, though the ladder was slightly off-set, as the airlock hallway wasn't present and the hull began to taper accordingly. On one side of the central corridor, two bunkrooms. On the other, the eating-room and the commander's quarters, with a 'fresher unit between them.

The eating-room held the other six crew, leaving virtually no room and definitely no free seats. If she'd wanted to get to the replicator, sidling would have worked — and been more undignified than she preferred, especially if armed with anything more than the underpowered pistol she had.

Arrhae was sure at least three of those crew should have been in their bunks, sleeping. She didn't remark on it. Instead, she nodded at everyone and wondered if, perhaps, it would have been kinder to make three shifts with longer hours, and fewer people. The crew nodded back, and t'Tei attempted a smile.

As Arrhae pulled back, she told tr'Dreth, loud enough to be heard, "If there are any problems with the food patterns for the replicator, I can attempt to acquire better ones." It was, after all, something that would benefit herself as much as the crew, and benefiting oneself was hardly remarkable.

"I might be able to provide you with a list, sir," he said.

"At your convenience, but hopefully before we leave orbit."

And, last, the commander's quarters. It was slightly larger than the Medbay, and included an all-in-one 'fresher: toilet, miniscule sink, and a showering option. Like the lower 'fresher, it possessed compartments for washing uniforms. In the main area, small storage cabinets lined the upper side of two walls, for personal items. The cot folded down from one wall, and was larger than she had expected, filling the entire width of the room; after a moment, she realized the probable reason and suppressed a disdainful twitch of her lips as she shoved it back up into the wall again.

At the far end was a fold-down desk and its attendant console; apparently one was expected to sit with one's back to the door, either on the deployed mattress itself, or on a seat that folded up from the wall just below that end of the bed.

Arrhae was not well-pleased with any design that put her back to a door.

But that was unlikely to be tr'Dreth's fault. Engineering might have arranged things, but most probably it was simply a shipwright's little dig that got overlooked.

Arrhae turned. "I'd best return to the bridge and see if we've been given our orders yet." Thus far, she had no personal belongings she cared to leave in the room. She did pause, though, while tr'Dreth backed out of the doorway. "Has the room been cleaned since the last occupant used it?"

"Yes, sir," the man said. "And, ah, that was tr'Ronu. He's been moved back into his quarters since yesterday, though. Ah, do you want to see the sensor-access?"

"Mm, yes. I should." She exited the quarters and watched as tr'Dreth reached up to unlock, and pull down, a ceiling-panel that turned into a ramp with slight stair-like ridging and thick sides of vacuum-proof insulation. She slid past him and climbed into the accessible guts of the sensor array. It was mostly consoles, wiring, and similar maintenance access. Webbing was stored along one of the walls. As she returned down, she said, "I recall that this area can be used if something goes wrong on the bridge?"

He secured the panel-hatch behind her, though the ceilings were low enough that, amazingly, she could have done it herself. "Yes, sir. The webbing can be strung like seats, and with a little shunting, you can get sensors and piloting both there. Or sensors and weapons. Or all three if no one minds other people's elbows poking them a lot. The commander's quarters have the same options, but there's really not room or console-space to do more than one at a time there."

"And there's yet another redundant set of consoles in the corners of Engineering, yes?"

"Yes, sir."

Arrhae let herself smile wryly as she looked around at what was now her ship. "A lot of redundancy for something that would probably be destroyed by a single hit of... anything larger than hand-weapons."

Deadpan, tr'Dreth said, "I think it's in case someone uses a rifle to shoot a hole in the bridge, sir."

"Indeed." She didn't let herself actually laugh, but permitted the slight hope that not _all_ the crew were going to hate and resent her. "I'll do an inspection of the ship sometime after I've received the orders. If there are any suits that need attention, or contraband that needs to be disposed of..."

"Everything will be proper, sir. Even if you performed the inspection immediately."

"I'm glad to hear it, tr'Dreth." She looked around and pointed at a hatch in the end of the hall, where it began to slope downwards. Railing-style handholds led down the slope. "The short-cut to the bridge?"

"Yes, sir." He hesitated. "Ah, there's a trick to it..."

She flattened herself against the wall and gestured for him to slip past her.

He did, and took hold of one of the railings, then used the heel of one boot to work the catch and the toe to shove the hatch open. He glanced at her; again she motioned him to continue, so he headed down, with the twisting of his body marking how the ladder shifted where the rungs were.

Arrhae followed, choosing the more difficult option of slithering down more sideways than not, so her leggings-clad rear would not be unguarded. She paused to swing the hatch closed, moved down another rung, and jumped the rest of the way, landing beside the sensor station's chair, where tr'Dreth already was.

Tr'Ronu might or might not have watched her come down the ladder, but he'd turned back to his console by the time she'd been able to get a good look. He said, "No communication yet, Enarrain."

"Has the station-keeping glitch shown up yet?" she asked.

"Once. I compensated and re-started the program, as per our standard procedure for this, Enarrain."

"I see." Arrhae slid into the piloting chair and fastened the harness out of habit. "Tr'Dreth, if you could forward me the sensor logs you said you had? I might as well prod at the program while we're waiting to be contacted."

"Yes, sir," he said, which was either his favorite thing to say, or his favorite thing to say to new commanders who happened to be Tal Shiar.

"And forward me the list of foods to try to get better replicator patterns for, when you've made it," she added.

Yes, sir," he said, this time with what might have been suppressed hope.


	5. Iernrae'edhir

**Summary for the Chapter:**

> Content Warning: The Admiral is being creepy.

* * *

The next half-hour passed silently, which suited Arrhae well. Tr'Ronu sulked in the tactical seat, and while she could have dismissed him, she wanted him present in case she had to shift the expected transmission to her quarters. Enough of the crew had acknowledged the station-keeping glitch; either it was an elaborate hazing that would have little short-term effect, or it was real. If it was real, allowing it to get out of hand would be a sure way to fail this test.

The program itself was, as expected, far too complex to get anywhere quickly, just looking for errors. She shifted her approach to crafting something to notice when the glitch happened, in an attempt to snapshot the conditions that might have caused it. If it tied into the sensors in some separate way, then any sensor-errors might be brought to light.

When tr'Dreth supplied the requested list, however, Arrhae saved and closed down the program in order to study information that no report would be likely to contain. At the top of the list was "Better Everything," which Arrhae understood to be the anthem of anyone who had to live on replicated food. After that... herbal infusions with stimulating or calming properties. Sauces to add to the replicated fowl. Fish that did not taste "like salty foamed sealant." Candies and desserts. Ending the list was "Terran Coffee," which made her twitch an eyebrow till she decided t'Saii's grandmother might have returned with a taste for the stuff.

She was about to return to the monitoring-program when things beeped softly at tr'Dreth's station and he said, "Incoming transmission, sir."

"On-screen," she said and sat alertly.

Admiral tr'Llhevil had, perhaps, not been expecting her to take the call with her crew around. He wore a tunic with a v-cut neck, thin and soft according to the way it folded and wrinkled, rather than anything uniform-like. And he was holding a glass of his wine; its blue had turned more electric in the data-compression of the video, or perhaps the display was not precisely tuned.

"Admiral," Arrhae said, and put her fist to her shoulder, bowing over her console. "We await your orders, sir."

"I see. Had your ship-tour yet?"

"Yes, sir," she said, with very private sympathy for tr'Dreth. "I intend to perform a full inspection after we break orbit, sir."

"You'll need to pause by Spacedock for your belongings, I'm told."

"If your orders permit, sir." She hoped they would, but if not... there were enough people _her size_ on the ship that she could requisition a change of clothing now and then, if the replicator could not provide.

"Mm." Admiral tr'Llhevil sipped his wine thoughtfully. His eyes almost seemed to look through her, judging and evaluating.

She let it wash over her. A blade would not care if it were judged. It would simply exist, flawed or not. In the moment, there was no time to think of what flaws might be present, or how to correct them. The time to fret and fix and excel was before anyone bothered to look.

Finally, the admiral said, "You'll have time to have your luggage delivered, but no more than that. Mostly you'll be picking up data-logs from observational satellites within a few lightyears of ch'Rihan. The rest..." His dark gaze swept to the others on the tiny bridge. "For your ears only."

"Understood, sir," she said. "Tr'Ronu, you have the helm. Remain in position until I return. Tr'Dreth, switch the transmission to my quarters." Then she went to the ladder and up it with reasonable alacrity.

In her quarters, while she would have liked to have watched the door and kept her head turned from the display there... She just pulled out the wall-seat and resigned herself to being stabbed before she'd been in command even three hours.

The display demanded her palm-print to establish an encrypted link, and when appeased, resolved into the admiral's image again.

"Arrhae," he said. "I'm surprised you didn't take the transmission here to start with." His pronouns were still formal, superior-to-subordinate. She hadn't expected anything different.

"The layout places my back to the door, sir," she said. "And I have not yet scanned the room for listening devices."

"The perfect scion of the Tal Shiar."

"My guardian has invested much time in my training, sir."

"Not so much in military matters, though, Enarrain T'Solos." The words were at odds with the gentle voice.

"He has a high opinion of my ability to learn quickly, sir."

"There's still time to admit this is too much for you. I could find a place for you on my own ship. You'd gain experience. Promotions. You'd be more fit for command."

"You may of course relieve me of this command, sir, but I do not request it. My guardian has high expectations for me." And those expectations did not, apparently, involve installing Arrhae in Admiral tr'Llhevil's ship-quarters, or she would have been there already.

"I had expected more gratitude from you."

"Sir," she said, thoughts racing for the correct words. "I was given to believe our gratitude for your favors had been communicated to the extent desired and agreed upon."

"And you have no personal gratitude, Arrhae?" His expression was becoming dangerous, in the muted way of someone who was too far away to merely strike out.

He was more possessive than the other two had been. She swallowed. "Sir, I serve the Empire, not my own ambitions. Director Hakeev wishes me to command this ship. We are grateful for your assistance in this matter. I was given to believe—"

Admiral tr'Llhevil interrupted, "And everything you do, you do for the Director of the Tal Shiar?"

"Yes, sir," she said, softly, reflexively, before her mind could even begin to untangle whether he had been testing her loyalties, testing the limits of Tal Shiar indulgence, or both.

He took another of those military gulps from his glass, holding the mouthful to savor the taste or perhaps give himself time to recover his composure. Once he swallowed, he said, "After you dock, you'll have one hour to get your luggage. You will depart the system on time, on a route that will allow you to check this list—" (he tapped on his console, and a file was transmitted) "—of observational satellites and determine if they are all functioning correctly. You will download their low-priority recordings, analyze them for anything their algorithms overlooked, and return with both analyses and raw data. This should take you no more than two tendays or less. You will be expected back promptly."

"Understood and acknowledged, sir. Will there be any other instructions?"

In a dangerous, contemplative tone, he said, "I could order you to strip..."

"Sir, that is not a military order. Further, this room has not been secured. Potentially generating defamatory materials would be considered an unacceptable risk by the Director."

"And after you certify that room as secure?"

"The Director gave me to understand that my personal appreciation would not be required beyond that evening, sir. In non-military matters such as those, my participation and obedience must be cleared with my superior officer in the Tal Shiar."

"In other words, Director Hakeev."

"Yes, sir."

Another swallow of the wine. "So you've an even more _iehrry ih'Yyaio_ than I thought."

She ignored the crudity. "Do you have further orders for the ship, sir?"

Admiral tr'Llhevil paused, then set the glass down firmly. "No." He reached out and cut the transmission.


	6. Ri'yika

* * *

Arrhae let herself take one long breath before she stood and returned to the bridge. "We need docking permission for Spacedock," she said. A thought struck her. "We'll have one hour there. Tr'Dreth, pick someone randomly from each of piloting, engineering, and sensors and offer that hour to them, but stress that if they are late, this ship _will_ leave without them."

"For a picket-patrol?" tr'Ronu said in disbelief.

"The orders give us an hour docked, maximum, and Tal Shiar instruction has not taught me disobedience." She sat in the pilot's chair and sent the request for a flight-plan that would let them dock in all due haste, since tr'Ronu hadn't taken the hint.

"You can't just select people at random," he protested.

She turned her head and let her expression be more sharp than impassive. "As the commander of this ship," she said, "I most certainly can."

Behind them, tr'Dreth asked, "Can they trade, sir? Within the specialties?"

Arrhae glanced over her shoulder at the round-faced man. "Allowed. But we will retain at least enough crew for three shifts, should we have to leave anyone behind."

As she turned back to the console, where the permission and flight-plan had come through, tr'Ronu growled, "You could have asked me who deserved leave."

While technically true, it would be a step toward letting him run the ship with her as a figurehead. She replied, "I don't have time to make an evaluation of every crew-member. Random chance will suffice for this. Let the Universe reward whom it will."

He subsided back into his chair, making a hissing sound in the back of his throat that he probably thought was covered by the power-plant's vibration. Arrhae ignored him and concentrated on piloting the ship instead.

Hours of training simulations once again paid off. Her docking was careful and competent instead of smooth and assured, but it well sufficed.

Once she'd taken her hands from the console, tr'Dreth said, "Sir, the crew taking an hour's leave are tTei, Jaeil, and tr'Ronu."

She hadn't noticed tr'Ronu accepting any messages at his station, but she'd been busy. "Approved. I need to collect my belongings. You have the bridge, tr'Dreth."

"Yes, sir," he said, and slouched back in his chair even before she'd slipped out the hatch.

Tr'Ronu followed her. She permitted this. At the exit, she paused to give Jaeil the space to go first — which the buxom woman did quickly. By the time Arrhae was out the hatch, Jaeil was cantering down the corridor.

"She'll bring back real ale," tr'Ronu growled.

For a moment, Arrhae wanted to snap _Why didn't you tell me that sooner?_ But the answer was that he hadn't wanted to give her information to make a decision, but rather to make her decisions for her. So she said, "So I'll have something to uncover during my inspection later."

"You were entrapping her?! _Ri'yika!_ ," he snapped.

Apparently he had not thought beyond _enarrain_. Or not remembered the _Tal Shiar_ part. She had her pistol out and under his chin before he could step back. "What. Did. You. Say."

Tr'Ronu froze. His chin was lifted, and combined with her comparative lack of height and the angle she was at (which was too close for good tactics, but made the pistol seem larger than it was)... it was hard to read his expression, even though he bluffed like the violent beast of his insult: poorly or not at all. She picked out anger, alarm, what was probably the sick realization that she _could_ shoot him and face few consequences, and finally an uneasy attempt to master himself.

He said, "I... ask the commander's pardon. The... prior commander had... habits."

"Explain. Swiftly. I do not want to leave without a change of clothes."

To his credit, tr'Ronu managed not to waste time. "Jaeil is... an easy drunk. The prior commander kept it off her record, and she stayed in his quarters as repayment. And... drank more. She's not... hard. It was difficult to watch."

Arrhae waited a moment. When he didn't continue, she said, "I will look into your report once we have undocked. If I find you have lied to me..." She trailed the barrel of the gun down his throat, to the indentation at the base of his neck. Her breathing was faster, and her free hand's fingers nearly itched with the urge to dig the nails into his flesh.

She didn't have time for that. She stepped back, out of range of an untelegraphed strike, and holstered her weapon. "Get out of my sight. Be back on the ship before we leave, or don't. Pulling two shifts might be restful for me."

He put his fist to his shoulder and bowed, then hurried down the corridor to the first turning, and took it.

 _I should have shot him,_ she thought as she continued for the office that was supposed to have her possessions. But while she would have gotten away with it easily, it would also have eaten her hour. Hakeev would have been displeased that she had been unable to control her crew, even for a short time — and never mind that Admiral tr'Llhevil had sabotaged her from the start, using her rank and putting his hand on her in such a familiar way in front of the others. Had he merely introduced her as _your new commander_ , she might have been _riov_ by courtesy and evaded the whole matter of being of equal or barely-greater rank to the rest of the crew. Had he kept his hands off her, they might have assumed she was a _scary_ Tal Shiar enarrain.

But Hakeev would accept no excuses, and there was no winning in this situation. An early crew-death would show she'd been unable to maintain control. Allowing tr'Ronu to live meant she had allowed an insult to the Tal Shiar to stand, allowed her own squeamishness to influence her in accepting a dubious explanation.

The excuse of "I would have taken too long to kill him" wouldn't work, either, and no matter that she would have happily spent the entire hour and then some, flaying the skin from tr'Ronu's muscle and flesh.

Spacedock's security office was two-part: one side with mere peacekeepers, and the other with Tal Shiar. Arrhae ignored the "civilian" security and strode to the appropriate desk. When the gray-haired woman behind looked up, Arrhae said, "Enarrain Arrhae T'Solos, on this day assigned command of observational craft _Fve-Rhi-Sei_. I have a personal cargo case waiting for me here."

"I can look it up," the woman said, reaching for her console's keyboard with no haste.

Helpfully, Arrhae added, "It should have the Director's seal on it."

Pleasingly, it took less than ten minutes to recover the luggage after that. Arrhae even had time to obtain a data-stick with replicator programs before she was striding back to the ship, dragging her wheeled trunk behind her.

It was not a small container. It was not a narrow container. Apparently even Tal Shiar were not immune to stupid decisions of Tal Shiar bureaucracy, which included a personal cargo crate that wasn't easily gotten up the ladders of the observation ship that everyone had known she'd be on, over five days ahead of time. It was going to be a cursed mess, trying to get the overlarge case to her quarters on the upper crew deck, but once they'd undocked, she could have Engineering cut the gravity briefly.

Perhaps one or two of the crew would be desperate enough to be on her good side that they would find the shared vulnerability to bureaucracy amusing. A bonding moment.

And perhaps it was yet another handicap she would have to deal with, without killing too many of her crew to complete the assignment.

There were deep grooves around the airlock hatches, where _6-5-3_ was docked. Arrhae had to yank and lift the crate awkwardly, as its convenient little wheels caught in the grooves. In the middle of this, just before the station-side door could close, Jaeil reappeared, calling, "Hold the door, hold the door!"

Arrhae kept the button for _open_ pressed as the buxom sensors-officer hurried in. Then, while Jaeil stuttered to a stop on her thanks, Arrhae looked her up and down.

The lack of giant sleeves _did_ mean no one could tuck bottles of ale into their uniform, at least. Perhaps a small consolation for the lack of weapons-stowage.

Arrhae said, "Good. You haven't brought any contraband onto the ship."

"No, sir," the woman said miserably. Her breath suggested that she'd found something alcoholic, which hadn't remained in the bottle long enough to become contraband.

Sighing would do no good. Arrhae pressed the _open_ button on the other side of the airlock. "Go lie down. Not in my quarters, thank you. We'll have to talk later."

Jaeil fled, casting a fearful look over her shoulder, and Arrhae would have thought wistfully of Admiral tr'Llhevil's offer if it hadn't come with the strings of staying in _his_ quarters. As well as the consequences of angering Hakeev, of course, which were far more dire. Tr'Llhevil couldn't protect her from that, even if he'd wanted to.


	7. Ebhæelhir

* * *

Wrestling the crate into the narrow corridor was, at least, a distraction from bleak thoughts. In a surely unintended fit of sensible design, the ladder's tube opened directly in front of the airlock. As a sign the Universe was laughing at Arrhae... while the container was narrow enough to slide into the tube, it was too long to go up it, hanging out on either side by half a finger's length.

There was a comm panel inside the ladder's tube. Arrhae flicked the switch and said, "Bridge?"

 _"Dreth here,"_ came the distorted voice of that sensor officer.

"T'Solos. I know Jaeil's back. Are t'Tei and tr'Ronu?"

_"T'Tei is, sir, but not tr'Ronu."_

"Ask someone — not Jaeil, she's lying down — to bring me some cables so I can secure this personal cargo crate to the central ladder till we have a chance to cut the gravity. I think we could take it through Engineering. Or if we get it end-on, it might fit up the ladder after all."

 _"Yes, sir,"_ tr'Dreth said, and the sound-quality was poor enough that she wasn't sure if he was laughing or not.

The one who showed up was t'Raedheol; apparently the true difference between her and t'Tei was in their characteristic expressions, as the scarred engineer was glowering at the surroundings with the careless ease of someone who just _did_ that. Not something that showed in the static identity-images in their reports.

"Help me with this," Arrhae told her, ignored the grunt of surprise — or disdain for the luggage — and worked on securing the thing where it was, lest it go rolling about and smack into someone if the gravity became problematic.

As a silent commentary of her own, Arrhae kicked the thing when they were done, ostensibly to test whether it would come loose. T'Raedheol glowered back off to wherever she wished to be, giving no sign of understanding that the crate was someone else's stupidity, foisted off on Arrhae.

Then Arrhae loitered in the doorway to the bridge, waiting and watching down the corridor.

It was not quite the last minute when tr'Ronu showed up. Arrhae called, "Seal the lock and watch out for the personal cargo container." Then she ducked through the hatch and onto the bridge. It was her shift, she was the assigned pilot for that shift, and she was going to prove... something.

Perhaps that anyone stuck with _ir-Aeleir_ as their birthplace name would be at home in the airless void that had surrounded their ship when they first drew breath.

She called up the flight-plan, waited for the ship to read that it was sealed, and began pulling away from the station. Careful. Competent. No setting the ship to spinning around its center axis like a toy.

There would yet be time to do that, and practice thinking in dimensions that didn't remain flat and gravity-bound. Time to practice seeing the stars spin in circles, and school the stomach lest it do likewise.

She flicked the appropriate switch for Engineering. "T'Saii, are the engines ready for warp one to the edge of the system?"

_"They are, sir."_

"Engaging warp," she said, and did so. The engines and drive shifted their vibrations smoothly, and for a moment, she remembered the hum of the cargo ship her mother had served on, long ago.

She put the memory out of her mind. "Edge of system in five. Four. Three. Two. One. Edge of system. Shifting to warp three. Engage cloak."

The engines changed their song, and the lights dimmed slightly. Arrhae smiled and settled back in the chair, simply luxuriating in the sensation for a moment.

Sadly, the cargo container was still a necessary inconvenience. She tapped Engineering's switch again. "T'Saii, have you a moment?"

 _"I can, sir. Do you need me on the bridge?"_ the engineer replied.

"No. My luggage arrived in an inconvenient form. It's currently in the central ladder-well, but I don't think it will pass up it, and it would certainly need the gravity cut to even try. My current plan is to maneuver it to the upper crew level via Engineering, but that will probably require a gravity adjustment as well. Is this possible? Or will I be making several trips to unpack the thing before I space it?"

The silence on the other end was probably due to t'Saii mastering some reaction or other. Arrhae would lay a link of cash on the reaction being disbelieving laughter. Eventually the engineer re-opened the connection. _"I can handle the grav adjustments, sir. I'd appreciate it if we could try getting it up the central ladder first, please."_

"I'm willing. I don't want to lose my wardrobe to the singularity." Not to mention the subsequent implosion if they were all less than fantastically lucky, should the crate fall through the force screens and into the spinning hoops of the containment unit.

_"I'll get some of the others started, sir."_

Though Arrhae wasn't pleased by the idea of the crew messing with her belongings while she was stuck on the bridge... They probably couldn't get into the crate's true contents. And the current placement of the thing was inconvenient and embarrassing. "Thank you, t'Saii. I appreciate that. Inform me if there's anything I need to help with. Bridge out."

It occurred to her, belatedly, that the crew _could_ probably space the thing in frustration or malice — but while there were supposed to be many items in the luggage that would be very helpful... She had a datapad, a pistol, a scanner, a knife, and a few other small, useful devices that fit in the shoulder-points of her tunic and down her boots. If the replicators could not provide a spare uniform, she could requisition one from the crew. Sometimes Tal Shiar had to travel quickly. There had been _instruction_ on mastering a ship on short notice, with nothing more than what one carried — and with the risk of a hostile commander, at that.

Much as she was tempted to call up the nascent monitoring program she'd been working on, to grind through and finish it... She had too many other things to do, many of which should have been done before leaving the system. But instead of a day either in orbit or docked, to inspect the ship and deal with any difficulties of equipment or crew, she'd had an hour. That had been spite, and she marked Admiral tr'Llhevil's personality accordingly and returned her attention to her priorities.

While guiding the ship, some amount of attention was required, both on the part of helm and sensors. Navigation in general was designated as the helm's job on an observation ship like this, while the sensors-officer took care of detecting and reporting any unexpected obstacles or phenomena. Once a course was locked in, though, it required only moderate tending, unless...

"Tr'Dreth?" she asked.

"Yes, sir?"

"Does the course-keeping program have the same glitch as the station-keeping one?"

"Not that we've noticed, sir, though we're all a little suspicious about it now."

"Thank you."

That meant she had a bit of attention to spare for other things than piloting. While she could review the crew records again and play the ever-popular game of "guess the Tal Shiar spy/informant," she hadn't interacted with enough of them yet for that to be at all worthwhile. On short acquaintance, tr'Dreth was friendly enough, tr'Ronu un-afraid enough, and Jaeil had a cover-story as a fragile woman with a desperate tendency toward drunkenness. T'Saii being part-human could make others dismiss the possibility that she'd be accepted to their ranks (forgetting that her grandmother had been a _spy in the Vulcan Alliance_ ); t'Raedheol's grumpiness didn't disqualify her either; and for all Arrhae knew, t'Tei's awkward smile back in the eating-room had been laying the groundwork to get closer to Arrhae and report on her more effectively.

And that still left two sensors-officers (t'Killis and tr'Aeyn), a pilot (Vuwal tr'Verih), and an engineer (D'liir), none of whom she'd done more than briefly glance at.

Better to pull out her datapad and start outlining her report to Director Hakeev. Starting with allusions to Admiral tr'Llhevil's pettiness, annotating with the need for more conformations of luggage-containers as this current situation was an embarrassment to the Tal Shiar, and after some time to consider what light she might cast on it, a bald statement on tr'Ronu: _He was disrespectful and I should have killed him on the station. My apologies. In my evaluation, however, the aftermath would have consumed enough time to prevent me from departing within the allotted hour, especially if I wished to claim the luggage assigned to me. If tr'Ronu does not heed his good fortune, likely we will return to dock minus a pilot._

After a bit more consideration, she added, _Requesting further information on Jaeil (Sensors). Tr'Ronu made claims suggesting reports from prior commander had omitted non-trivial information regarding her. If we have an informant among the crew, private records may be more complete than public ones._ Unless Jaeil was indeed the informant in question, in which case Arrhae might or might not be given anything new; Jaeil's own reports would likely have read something like "have secured commander's trust and access to his quarters." Although... Struck by a thought, Arrhae continued, _Requesting detailed information on prior commander, to determine what command style the crew are accustomed to._

It would be most interesting if the prior commander's record ended with "arrested" or "deceased."

Arrhae made a few more notes about what she wanted to attend to during the ship-inspection, after her duty-shift was done, and then returned to programming.


	8. Rea's Perfectly Functional Workboots

* * *

Time passed as it would, and no further unpleasant interruptions presented themselves until the end of the first primary duty-shift, when tr'Ronu stood at the main hatch. "Second shift pilot reporting for duty," he said, and as she watched him, narrow-eyed, he completed the sentence with, "...sir."

It wasn't the snide _enarrain_ he'd been using. Perhaps he would survive the trip after all, if she could make sufficient non-fatal example of him to justify letting him live. Arrhae unfastened her safety harness and stood. "You have the bridge," she said, and moved out of the way for him to take that seat.

He did so, and Arrhae debated on whether she wanted to exit via the regular hatch, or up the ladder-rungs from the bridge itself. If the central ladder was still blocked, having to clamber over that cursed trunk, or go around through Engineering, would be... ignominious.

Tr'Dreth perhaps interpreted her hesitation as waiting for him. "I'll stay on for a bit longer," he said. "Waiting for a scan analysis to complete."

"Very well," she said. Far more likely was that he was going to cover for any failings on Jaeil's part (such as her tardiness appearing on the bridge), but there was no reason to object. And since she didn't want to weave out between the chairs and consoles... She went up the ladder to the "shortcut" hatch instead.

Once on the second level of the crew quarters, with the hatch closed again, Arrhae went to her room. It was right there, and with luck...

The contents of the crate were stacked along the wall, outwardly tidy, but actually blocking deployment of the swing-down bed. The secured boxes were marked with Imperial raptors and the Director's crest, and a cursory inspection of a few suggested that no one had even tried to open them.

"Very helpful," she murmured out loud, almost hoping there was a microphone hidden somewhere. The bland delivery might unsettle any listeners.

Well, now she knew what she would be doing _after_ the inspection. And she might as well start the inspection itself in her quarters while she was still reasonably fresh. Her tricorder was at her belt, and she started checking for listening devices and cameras.

The room was small, and it took less than half an hour to perform an adequate sweep. She would still have to get into the guts of the console and intercom, to see if they could be turned on and off remotely, but the only microphone she'd uncovered had been dusty, its power-cell depleted long ago. She'd found it by touch, hiding near the pull-down desk's hinge.

The tiny 'fresher seemed functional, though she wasn't sure she'd want to use it any time soon. She could think of too many pranks to pull with the toilet, sink, and shower, that ranged from inconvenient to fatal, if the door was sufficiently air-tight and the plumbing locked to spew out liquids.

She triggered the toilet and sink while she had the door open, and they worked fine — but then, a sensor to detect the door was open would be easy enough for such a trap. Perhaps she would simply never close the door into that 'fresher. One of the smaller containers from the crate would wedge it open well enough.

She exited, tricorder in hand, and began scanning her way down the corridor, popping open maintenance panels whenever she found one. There were a _lot_ of panels; the ship had no maintenance _tunnels_ , and thus nearly everything was accessible from the visible hallways.

Of all the wretched parts about this ship... the overall condition seemed worn but cared for. Not loved enough for no cut corners, or the best shine, but seen as the vital part of survival that he was, out between the stars, and kept accordingly.

"Rea's Perfectly Functional Workboots," she muttered, closing a panel and turning to the person who'd been waiting in their doorway for the past half-minute or so. They hadn't moved once the door had opened, and the reflection in the tricorder panel had shown no weapon, so Arrhae hadn't stopped examining the wiring. "Yes?"

The man there was, clearly, D'liir, the fourth-shift engineer. He was the only male on the ship whose hair was cut so very short, barely as long as from fingertip to first joint. Despite that, he had the widow's peak that a military cut both permitted and encouraged, which some folk called "wing-cut," for it looked like a shadow-bird in flight, beak down and wings wrapped against the sides of the head.

He said, "Ah... Workboots?"

Apparently he had good hearing. "A commentary on the ship, thus far." She gestured slightly with the tricorder. "I am expected to report on a complete inspection of the entire ship. Is everyone from fourth shift awake?" Allegedly, everyone in a given shift — save the commander — was lodged in the same bunkroom, to reduce the number of people on different shifts waking each other up, and thus having murder committed upon them by cranky roommates.

D'liir glanced over his shoulder. "Can be in five minutes, sir. We were getting back on schedule."

Ideally, the full inspection would have been done, again, while docked, with enough time for the crew to restore their disrupted sleep-cycles. Fourth shift would have been on their second interval of maintenance duties during first's initial duty-shift; in theory, they should now be at liberty until first shift returned for their second stint of primary duties, but apparently they were catching up on sleep as "recreation."

Or having a three-person orgy. At least it was quiet, if so.

Arrhae took a breath and sighed it out her nose. "I don't want people falling asleep on duty. The ship's safety takes priority over a complete report. Dispose of any contraband before I wake up."

"Yes, sir. Thank you, sir." He pointed at the crew 'fresher. "I'll just go in there a moment, sir?"

She flipped a hand in permission and went back to opening panels.

D'liir visited the 'fresher briefly, slipped out again, and slid back into the fourth-shift bunkroom. Arrhae closed a panel and went to the next.

Shortly afterwards, while she was digging out what scanned as mummified candy (in a wrapper), the door to Engineering opened. "Elements," t'Saii said. "Do you ever rest? Sir?"

"I have an inspection to conduct around the schedule of a ship underway, which I am going to class as 'secondary duties' for today," Arrhae replied. She added dryly, "Thank you for arranging the matter with the crate."

T'Saii shrugged. "I suppose Tal Shiar are usually assigned to bigger ships, sir."

"Or else the security office staff got my luggage confused with someone else's, and somewhere there is a very cranky officer with a much smaller trunk, discovering he has no uniform that fits." Arrhae peered back into the wires behind the opened panel, twisted, and managed to get her arm deep enough to flick the ancient candy into range for recovery.

"That sounds like it would be..."

"Very unwise of the staff, yes." She'd discover if it were the case when she started unpacking, and further speculation was pointless. She pulled out the candy with its wrapper between two fingers and offered it to t'Saii. "Recycle it?"

The engineer took it bemusedly. "Won't be good for anything else after this long. Pity. That was from downside, not replicated."

"If that's what's been causing the station-keeping fault, I will be obliged to lecture everyone about hiding expensive sweets in the panels." Merely finding it there would have been cause for a lecture, or even disciplining, if she'd been intending to put it in her report in the first place. But it seemed a tolerable risk, as it might reveal if t'Saii was the ship's informant.

"I'd say it shouldn't have been able to do that, sir, but it's true that the wiring for everything..." T'Saii patted the wall near her. "The price of redundancy is that sometimes you can't quite figure out how many things are redundant, and where. No ship stays spec-perfect after a few years."

Especially not if informants were tying in microphones or cameras, or if crew were trying to disable the official ones and any unofficial ones they could find. Or if crew were trying to spy on each other for unknown or prurient reasons. "Hmmm." Arrhae closed the panel where she'd found the unauthorized treat. "Has anyone made a scan of the _inside_ of the ship when one of those faults happens? Perhaps someone's walking over a certain spot, or using the replicator, or visiting the 'fresher."

"I'd have to ask Dreth, sir."

"It's not yet urgent." She opened another panel. No candy seemed present. "While I don't wish to keep you from your meal, if you and tr'Dreth are in the same bunkroom, I could do my inspection there without waking anyone up...

"I bunk with the second-shift, actually. Tr'Ronu and Dreth get the two-bunk."

Arrhae pulled the gender-balance of the shifts into her mind. With that switch, all of the bunkrooms were same-sex. "Tr'Dreth didn't mention which rooms were which shift." She pointed at the one D'liir had come from. "Fourth shift, I presume."

T'Saii nodded. "The other one is first shift's. Second and third are below. I was up here to get some food."

Another panel cleared and closed, and another opened. T'Saii had to shift around to get out of Arrhae's way. Arrhae said, "I'm surprised there's not a redundant replicator down below."

"Oh, there is, sir. But it's in the medbay closet, and it's tiny. If we're reduced to that one, we'll be eating nutrient bars and sucking fluids from bags."

"Speaking of fluids..." Arrhae fished in her datapad pouch and came up with the datastick. "I am _told_ this contains a pattern for Terran coffee. Quality of the pattern is unknown. It should have at least some of the other patterns people wanted, too, but I'd back up the existing programs to 'solids in case there's a problem and we have to reload everything from scratch."

T'Saii accepted the datastick with nearly as much reverence as if it were one of the S'harien swords of legend. "Understood, sir! Right away, sir! I'll get a datastick immediately, sir!"

"Dismissed," Arrhae drawled. "Don't forget to recycle the candy."

"Yes, sir!" t'Saii said, vanishing back into Engineering, where presumably a stash of empty data-solids existed.

Arrhae, thoughtfully, turned to the first-shift bunkroom's door.

Tr'Dreth still hadn't appeared — which made her suspect Jaeil was still lying down in second-shift's quarters — and tr'Ronu was on the bridge.

The ship's override codes had been on her datapad, and she had committed them to memory. A sequence of taps brought up a keypad display on the door's palm-lock, and a few seconds later, the door slid open.


	9. Ahyan Hwyej

* * *

The bunkroom was capable of taking four people, with two pull-down cots stacked atop each other on each side. In this case, only the two top cots had been deployed, and the space beneath them had been equipped with bolted-down storage containers as improvised desks.

If she didn't care what kind of mess she made, Arrhae could search a room thoroughly in under a quarter-hour. With an unknown time-limit and no reason to inconvenience the crew... She would take a little longer, she thought, and kept an ear open.

She found tr'Dreth's largest candy-stash almost immediately, as it was in the container/desk under one of the cots. His second-largest stash was in one of the storage-cabinets that lined the walls everywhere but immediately above the cots. And a small bag of hard candies were tucked under his pillow.

As illicit addictions went, it was unlikely to cause him to do anything but perhaps drop candy down a panel whilst performing maintenance. No drunkenness, no mind-altering chemicals (she'd scanned for those), no smoke to stress life-support... Perhaps some of them were expensive enough that he'd be bribable? She'd keep an eye on him. Or perhaps bribe him with expensive sweets herself, such that he'd rather report to her and be rewarded?

She'd have to discover what kind of budget would be required. Candy wasn't something she'd researched much.

Tr'Ronu, on the other hand, was a man of much more traditional tastes: a set of ill-hidden datasticks labeled with pornographic titles. She considered copying them into her pad, in case they were actually something else, but there might be some virus contained in them. If the luggage in her quarters _was_ hers, there would be a small computer that could handle such issues.

She should have unpacked first, rather than gotten started on the inspection. The abrupt departure had addled her priorities.

With a final scan around, she left the room with the datastick case tucked under one arm. So long as tr'Dreth didn't show up — and he was still elsewhere — she might be able to stow the items back in the room without anyone knowing.

Arrhae did pause briefly to look into the mess hall. T'Saii was there, with a large mug of nearly-black liquid and an expression that wouldn't have been out of place on someone who'd taken a number of potent mind-altering chemicals.

"The... coffee program is acceptable?" Arrhae asked.

Dreamily, t'Saii said, "I will follow you to the edges of space, Commander."

"I should double-check that Terran coffee is a stimulant for us."

"It is," t'Saii half-sang. "I just haven't had any for three years. It might not even be good coffee. I don't care. All blessings upon you, Commander."

"Thank you," Arrhae said, with wry bemusement, and headed back for her quarters to dig out the computer she wanted.

It took some digging. She wound up sliding the wall-cabinets open and shoving several of the boxes within — they'd added a _dress_ uniform? — which at least cleared the area enough that she'd probably be able to get her bed down later. The computer turned up in a container full of electronics: two more scanners, specialized for various tasks; an assortment of spy-cameras and microphones; some remote-controlled wrist-cuffs that had to be programmed to release with a touch if placed around her own arms; a shock-collar that was entirely overkill and also required a moment to add her biosigns to its "do not activate" list; three ear-speakers; and a handful of empty datapads, presumably in case her first one met some ill fate.

But the computer itself was optimized for quickly sucking data from a 'solid with no more sapient intervention than slotting and removing the stick itself. Each one would live in its own virtual pen, unable to access anything besides the display.

Then she slipped back across the hall, tapped the door's chime, and entered when it went unanswered. The datastick case was easily replaced, nigh exactly as she'd found it, and she decided that it was time to inspect the food facilities.

T'Saii was still there, looking entirely beatific. She informed Arrhae, "It's got two versions, Commander! One with the stimulant and one without! The one without isn't as good, but I can drink as much as I want before I have to sleep."

Arrhae mentally consulted the time and the shift explanations. "Aren't you supposed to be on secondary duties right now?" she asked.

"T'Raedheol only wants to see me if something is going terribly, sir. She'll yell."

Arrhae snorted. "Well, when you finish that cup, consult whatever maintenance duties are required. I'm expected to keep a strict ship." Which said little about what she intended to keep, which was an _effective_ ship. She'd tamper with what was apparently working — if the _6-5-3_ 's current state was any indication — only after she was reasonably sure she understood which parts were optimal and which could be improved.

"Yes, Commander!" 

She snorted again and went to investigate the food replicator, as she would need food before her second stint on the bridge. Nutrient bars were available, and she obtained one of those and a glass of chilled water. Returning to the table, she pulled out her datapad and brought up the maintenance reports for the ship.

T'Saii gave her a moment, then said, in tones of deep pity, "Oh, Commander."

Arrhae quirked an eyebrow at the engineer. "I don't like having to think about what I'm eating when I'm busy." And water was harder to slip poison into, undetected.

"Yes, Commander," t'Saii said, and stood to return her mug to the replicator. Then she departed.

Arrhae waited a few moment, then set down her pad and slipped to the door. No one was in the hallway. She took the single pace required to the replicator and murmured, "Terran coffee, warm, no additives."

An mug identical to t'Saii's swirled into existence. Arrhae picked it up, sniffed it dubiously, and took a sip. It was bitter. She wrinkled her nose and set it back in the replicator. "Recycle," she said, and it vanished into glitter.


	10. Hfaei Fraeta

* * *

_Director:_

_This report is preliminary, as my inspection must be conducted without such disruption as might endanger the ship's function or assigned task._ Arrhae inserted her diffident and highly factual complaints about Admiral tr'Llhevil, and added, _He seemed possessive regarding me, and offered me a place on his ship. I declined. He attempted to unsettle me with the threat of non-military orders. I referred him to my chain of command._

Then, leading in with _Likely due to how Admiral tr'Llhevil introduced me,_ she transcribed her notes on tr'Ronu. She dithered over whether to justify concerns over crew morale, should tr'Ronu encounter an unfortunate accident with Arrhae's pistol, and decided against that tack. Morale was unimportant to Hakeev; obedience was what mattered.

Arrhae had a different perspective on that, starting with the possibility that a resentful, frightened crew might be a sloppy one and cause inadvertent harm to the ship, and ramping up to the awareness that a "new commander" might be reported to have made any number of "inexperienced mistakes" that wound up fatal. So sad. Send more experienced Tal Shiar next time.

Then the requests for information about Jaeil and the ship's prior commander. Then, finally, her partial report on the ship itself, which was more a checklist than anything else. It included the station-keeping bug, but not the candy she'd discovered. (And that would test whether t'Saii was the ship's informant. It was such a trivial matter, there would be no reason to think to withhold it, either as blackmail or because coffee could buy her loyalty so quickly. And yet it was an unusual, amusing matter, and thus _likely_ to find its way into a report — so long as her handler or superior hadn't thoroughly botched the relationships by chiding her for unimportant details.)

Arrhae read through the thing twice and decided it would do. Her closing paragraph was the formality of a ward's to her guardian, hoping all had gone well for him since her departure and sending her regards to the household staff, especially Karana. It was said to be unlucky to withhold such courtesies from any Klingon servants, if only because any servant — and especially a _hru'hfe_ — could make one's life uncomfortable, should she feel slighted. And Karana was an easily-slighted old woman.

She read that paragraph three times, for all that it was rote and could have been copied from any other letter she'd ever sent to her patron when she'd been given a task that took her from his sight for more than a few hours.

Finally one last read of the whole thing, an encryption, a download of the encrypted message to the ship's computer, and she left the room to drop in on the bridge — somewhat more literally than not, as she came from the hatch.

Tr'Dreth still sat the sensors, as he quite possibly had for the past eight hours, with Jaeil nowhere to be seen. Arrhae ignored that and instructed, "Tr'Ronu, adjust course to appear as if we are heading for the Vulcan Alliance border. When we're about an hour off-course, decloak so I may send my initial report to Director Hakeev." That would hopefully keep tr'Ronu from protesting. "Remain on the false course, warp one and uncloaked, for two hours — barring hostile ships appearing on sensors, of course. I expect a reply, and there's a risk I'll need a realtime transmission if he wishes to ask questions. I don't want our actual course to be too obvious."

"Understood, sir," tr'Ronu said, just barely beneath the threshold of sulkiness that she would have had to take notice of.

It wasn't the best subterfuge, but they wouldn't reach the first of the satellites till tomorrow. Or at least "tomorrow" as first shift counted it. However defined, it was far longer than Hakeev would tolerate for anything less than a very detailed report — and Arrhae had determined that wasn't going to happen by then.

She turned for the hatch, contemplated matters, and told tr'Dreth, "Go get some food. I can take sensors for a half hour."

"Ah, sir..."

"I told Jaeil to lie down when she got back from the station. It's no one's fault if she interpreted that as an excusal from her duties for today. And if she simply overslept..." Arrhae shrugged. "I have medic training and we have something resembling a Medbay. I can check her over before her next shift and make sure it's nothing serious."

Tr'Dreth cast a look down at tr'Ronu, perhaps debating the wisdom of leaving him alone with Arrhae. But her order had been direct, and tr'Dreth was apparently not a man who wanted to antagonize her. He got up. "Yes, sir. Ah, I'll come back after I've eaten."

Between "secondary duties" and outright "free time," he could hold the post till third shift came on — and if he was too good-natured to have someone bang on second-shift's door, Arrhae currently had no reason to do it for him. She nodded and slid into the vacated seat as he went out the main hatch. A touch on the console called up a list of the current passive scans and analysis. She spun around in the chair and checked on the various displays there as well. Alerts for unexpected phenomena were already configured, and though she was tempted to add a few more... It would have been for busy-work's sake, not because there'd been any true oversights.

It took nearly ten minutes before tr'Ronu said, not turning around, "You told her to lie down. Sir."

"We got back to the ship at the same time. She looked unwell."

"How... thoughtful. Sir."

"I'd hoped she would be refreshed and able to take up her duties when her shift arrived, but I see no reason to punish her for my apparent lack of clarity. I will have a talk with her. The matter will be cleared up. There will be no need for me to report this as a problem, and she will not be moving her uniforms out of the second shift's bunkroom."

He shot her a look over his shoulder. "You may be fooling Dreth, but—"

She cut in, letting her mild tone go to a growl. "Tr'Ronu. If I have to draw my pistol again, it will not be idly, and it will inconvenience tr'Dreth and t'Saii."

He glowered, in a fashion he might have thought concealed his emotions. Then he turned back to his console. "Sir," he gritted out.

She thought of telling him that it was the second time circumstances had dissuaded her from killing him — as, indeed, she would have had to call tr'Dreth back immediately from his meal, and t'Saii would have had to be called to help clear away the body. But those same circumstances meant baiting him would only make it more probable that tr'Dreth and t'Saii wound up becoming irked by the inconvenience (assuming they did not, for some inexplicable reason, _like_ tr'Ronu). And really, she wasn't sure how much coffee would be required to apologize for making someone move a body unexpectedly.


	11. Fvadt

* * *

Tr'Dreth returned in less than the half-hour she'd offered him, hastily climbing down from the hatch to the upper crew section. "I'm back, sir," he said needlessly.

"Returning sensors to you." Arrhae slid out of the chair for him and waited just long enough for him to be settled before she slipped out the main hatch on the other side of the bridge.

Since she was in that corridor anyway, she busied herself with looking in the storage lockers that lined it. There were indeed suits in case of loss of pressure: both light ones with inflatable, transparent hoods that would go on over the head and uniform-shoulders, and a half-dozen heavier suits, meant for longer use, or use outside the ship. Scans suggested that, like the rest of the ship, the suits were a bit worn but unlikely to suffer any failures if they were needed. (Plus there would be a number of the light suits scattered in the other sections of the ship: there'd been two in her quarters, which either spoke of redundancy, or that one had been Jaeil's; and she'd seen the hatches on the bridge for the ones there.)

No more mummified candy presented itself, either in the suit-lockers, equipment lockers, or the maintenance panels along the other side of the corridor. She did find some textbook-cunning sabotage of the cables for the monitoring cameras in that corridor, but it looked old enough not to have been made especially for her arrival.

From the sounds of things in the central ladder's tunnel, third shift was beginning its day, clambering up to get something to eat. Arrhae closed the panel without undoing the camera-sabotage, and waited for them to head up before she followed. She lingered in the upper hall long enough to hear t'Saii pointing out the new replicator programs, then went to her room to organize her belongings better.

Eventually, the general comm came on, with tr'Ronu saying, _"All hands, dropping cloak for two hours. If you want to send a letter, now's the time."_

Arrhae lunged for her room-console, leaving a uniform half in its container, and called up a program for copying _outbound_ transmissions as well as inbound ones. Yes, one existed in the ship's computer. Good. She unearthed her small computer again and connected it to the ship's integral display with cables, to suck in whatever got sent out or arrived.

Once that was settled, she went back to unpacking — making sure to leave one change of clothes and a few useful tools in a locked container, just in case something happened to the others. She'd been spared much hazing among the Tal Shiar-track erei'ereinir, as even before becoming the Director, Hakeev had had influence. But she'd seen the pranks played on others — and any punishment had been more for _getting caught_ at it, or leaving behind too much evidence. The victim was usually lectured as well, for not avoiding the trap or keeping their belongings secure enough.

Arrhae had learned from others' mishaps. More, she had spent her time planting cameras, spying on techniques, and framing her more annoying fellow erei'ereinir for the pranks they had indeed committed — without becoming known as the source of the information, the planter of evidence they thought they'd disposed of, or anything but a studious little creature who might never amount to much.

It was only when she'd achieved the rank of erein that she'd begun to distinguish herself — with permission from her guardian — in the realm of interrogations, drugs, poisons, and combat, with pistols, knives, or swords.

The brief fad of Andorian-style blade-duels had never been traced to her, though she'd been rounded up as a participant. Hakeev had not been constrained by lack of evidence, and slapped her for introducing an alien custom when the Tal Shiar were supposed to be the purest of Rihannsu.

There _really_ wasn't enough space in this bunk-closet to get any proper bladework done. Given a few more days, she'd be sparring shadows down the hallways, just to work up a sweat and keep her muscles swift.

By the time the comm chimed, Arrhae had put away everything again and stripped off her boots in order to work on flexibility exercises. She pulled her heel off the wall and leaned over to tap the button. "Yes?"

 _"T'Killis, sir,"_ said an unfamiliar female voice, which meant third shift must have come on-duty. _"Incoming message for you."_

"Shunt it to my quarters. Has Konra taken the helm?"

_"Yes, sir."_

"Tell her to remain uncloaked and on the false heading till I find out if there will be an additional transmission. Barring events requiring cloak, of course."

_"Understood, sir."_

Arrhae switched off the comm and went to the room's console to call up the message.

It was a video, with two other files appended: one marked with Jaeil's name and one marked with a _tr'Hoiim_ , who was presumably the prior commander.

She would have preferred a written message, which would be less likely to be overheard if the intercom's "transmitting" button had been compromised. But perhaps whatever was on it would be unremarkable enough that any eavesdroppers would learn nothing. She touched the button.

 _"My dear ward,"_ the recorded Hakeev said. _"It is most regretful that there have been misunderstandings with the admiral. I will, of course, address them personally. I doubt you will need to be involved, though there is always the chance mutual apologies would be appropriate."_

Which meant that if Hakeev decided tr'Llhevil should be allowed to save face, Arrhae would be sent back to "apologize" for any part she might have played in the "mutual misunderstandings." Hopefully, if that happened, it wouldn't take more than an hour or three. And hopefully, if that happened, tr'Llhevil would have returned to his smug, indulgent mode, rather than an angry, vindictive one.

The recording continued, _"As for tr'Ronu. It seems he may have a patron now, and we would not like to spoil that relationship prematurely. Try to get along as best you can, Arrhae. I don't know if that ship has a brig or not."_

Or, to translate: Don't kill him; you don't have to sleep with him, but lock him up before you kill him. _Fvadt. Fvadt, fvadt, fvadt._

The recording had moved on: _"I am disappointed that you have not completed more of the inspection, but I understand that there were unexpected handicaps. I'm sure you'll have a **detailed** report by the end of the voyage, at the least, but if you finish it sooner, you can send it by way of one of the satellites you're checking on. You will also see that I was able to provide those other two files you wanted. Confirm receipt. Hakeev out."_ The image blanked.

"Computer, begin recording reply," Arrhae murmured. At the answering chirp, she said, "My guardian. I confirm that I have received your message, and understand your commands. We are re-cloaking and proceeding on our assigned route. My regards to you and the household, especially Karana." She bowed her head, fist to her shoulder, then tapped the display's keyboard to end the message and commanded, "Save message. Encrypt for Director Hakeev. Send message."

Once it had confirmed all that, she went back to the ship-comm. "Bridge?"

 _"Bridge here,"_ came T'Killis' voice again.

"This is T'Solos. Re-cloak and return to the original course."

_"Yes, sir."_

"Good. T'Solos out."

With that necessary command delivered, she re-checked the lock on her door, engaged magnetics on one of the empty containers and placed it so it would trip anyone who entered incautiously, and deployed her wide bunk. From there, she could download the datafiles to her pad and have something to read before she slept.


	12. ir-Aeleir

* * *

She woke from a nightmare of falling, entangled in her sheets... to falling, her sheets wound about her, in blackness. She would have screamed, but the noise strangled in her throat as nausea tried to surge up instead and her breath was cut off by her own reflexes.

From a very, very long way away came a memory. _"Big girls don't throw up in zero-grav,"_ it said, in her mother's voice, and her mother's hand pulling her back to light, and gravity, and walls around her.

That had been an unwise lunge into a cargo bay. This...

This was a spy-ship.

Arrhae curled up, teeth clenched against heaves, and pressed her forehead to her knees. Her fingers sought out pressure-points along her ears, and she gripped as tightly as she could.

And the nausea subsided.

"Computer, lights!" she ordered.

Nothing happened.

She almost cursed out loud. But it would do no good at best, and amuse someone hostile at worst. In Andorian, she said, "Computer, activate display."

The little computer, that she'd left hooked to the desk's monitor, turned on its screen. It was a vivid brightness in the dark, even shining through the sheet that had swirled around Arrhae's head.

She clawed at the fabric, pulling it into a wad in front of her stomach, until she could look around and figure out where she was.

The answer was: very nearly to the ceiling of her quarters, and it was a wonder she hadn't lashed out and hit either that surface or one of the cabinets that lined the upper edges, and sent herself bouncing around the room. But for once, the small space worked for her. She reached out and gave a gentle shove, sending her towards the cot and more surface-areas to interact with.

Once there — and it was slower than she liked, but faster would've risked losing control of her trajectory — she grabbed onto the edge of the bunk and looked around more carefully.

The little computer was drifting above the desk, tethered by the cables. Her pillow was off in an upper corner. The sheets were still mostly tangled around her, while the cot's mattress was heading off towards the door. The container that she'd magnetized to the floor... was still there. Near it drifted the uniform she'd laid out at the corner of the bunk for tomorrow.

Underwear and sleeveless shirt were sufficient unto a real emergency, especially with the knife still fastened into its back-sheath. But she could breathe. She could hear the quiet noise of the air vents. And... with a stretch, she recovered her belt and the tricorder it held. A few scans determined that, yes, the rest of the ship still appeared to have atmosphere.

Cold fury settled into her gut, displacing most of the nausea. Arrhae worked her way along the bunk, then pushed off with the magnetized container as her goal. She rearranged herself upon arrival, opening the box and clinging to its lid's edge with her toes as she dressed. She even managed to get her boots on, though that required careful acrobatics to keep from drifting off somewhere she didn't want to be.

Then she oriented herself to where gravity _should_ be, unlocked the door, and, feet braced on either side of that container and squeezing against it to give herself leverage, slid it open.

There was light in the hallway outside. Arrhae waited a moment, then put her hands on either side of the opening and pull-jumped into gravity.

She landed well. A couple of glances confirmed no one was in the hall. She tugged her belt and uniform into something closer to perfection, flipped her hair into place by feel, and strode to the mess hall.

That door was also closed, and she slid it open.

The three women at the table froze.

Pleasantly, Arrhae said, "Konra. T'Killis. T'Tei. What time is it?"

T'Killis swallowed. "A bit under three hours past ship's midnight, sir."

"Excellent. And who is awake right now?"

"U-us and fourth shift, sir," she said.

"That. Will. Change." Not taking her eyes off them, Arrhae smacked the intercom with a fist and slid it sideways to a full-ship channel. "This. Is. Your. Commander," she bit out while the other three women winced. "I want every engineer at the mess hall within five minutes. _Move,_ people!"

It took nearly the full five minutes for t'Saii and t'Raedheol to arrive, each half-clad and barefoot. D'liir dithered back and forth until they showed up and Arrhae stalked out of the eating room. She snapped her fingers at the three at the table and ordered, "You. In the corridor. Now." Then she strode to stand in front of her door, turned, and pointed at everyone. " _Sit down._ D'liir, sit in the doorway to Engineering."

Once they were down, she strafed them with her gaze and returned to her icily pleasant voice. "Now, as I have everyone who was recently performing maintenance, and every engineer, perhaps someone can tell me why my quarters are at zero-gravity?"

T'Saii winced, closing her eyes and clenching her fists on her bare knees. T'Raedheol's glower rolled to the ceiling and she looked sharply to the woman beside her, t'Killis. D'liir looked ill. Konra, t'Killis, and t'Tei looked... like they had been practicing their blank faces for some time.

Arrhae waited for a few heartbeats, then purred, "I am waiting." When no immediate response occurred, she began to focus her attention on D'liir.

T'Tei said, "It's probably just a glitch, er, sir. Component gave out."

"Is that so."

T'Raedheol flicked her gaze from t'Killis to Arrhae, then down to her knees. "Probably, sir."

"Indeed." She visually strafed them all again, noting that t'Saii still had her eyes closed and hands clenched. Arrhae added, "And this explains why my room's lights also failed?"

T'Killis said, "Maybe the lack of gravity let the lights lift out of their sockets somehow, sir."

"A starship has components that require gravity to function," Arrhae said, staring down at t'Killis.

The other woman squirmed. "I—I'm just a sensor-holder, sir. I probably have it wrong."

"Probably," Arrhae agreed. She looked at the others. "Does anyone else have any ideas for why my lights aren't working?"

When D'liir fell under her regard again, he ducked his head. "A—a short somewhere, maybe, sir. Something lifted up and bounced into something else after the grav cut out."

"Indeed," Arrhae said again. "I suppose that's... plausible. Cascading glitches. Some trivial failure of a component. A hiccup in life support's controls. How very... plausible." She favored them all with a smile that barely reached her cheeks, let alone her eyes. "And how very fortunate that all this ship's engineers are awake now, so they can get to work finding and repairing this glitch."

"Commander," T'Saii said. "There's a chance that when the grav comes back on, it'll be too heavy at first."

And crush anything fragile. "I see. Stay here." The door was still open. She put her hands to the sides and leapt back into null-gee. Knowing what would happen meant her stomach only twinged its annoyance at breaking a long streak of weight.

It took a few ricochets off the ceiling in the dark room before she had the box of electronics and her little data-sucking computer, but no one came to look in. She stuffed the computer into the container, arranged herself at the door again, and returned to gravity. Despite having the box under one arm in a bulky, unstable mass... her landing was sure-footed, if not as flashy as she'd have liked.

Everyone was still sitting as ordered in the hall, and while t'Raedheol had her customary glower and t'Killis her bland expression... the others frankly stared.

Box still under her arm, she regarded them coolly. "My name," she stated, "is Arrhae ir- _Aeleir_ T'Solos. I was born on a starship. My mother died on it. Do you have any pertinent questions?"

Everyone shook their heads. Arrhae said, "Then D'liir can return to watching the engines, and the rest of you can fix my gravity and lights, and anything else that's gone wrong in my quarters. And if this happens again, I will ask the Director of the Tal Shiar, my guardian, to investigate your families and determine what nepotism placed an _incompetent_ on a starship."

D'liir looked particularly ill, perhaps even grayish. Arrhae let the statement sink in for everyone else, then said, "T'Saii, t'Raedheol, you may dress. Don't dawdle." After giving not quite enough time, she snapped, " _Move_ , people!"

They all fell over themselves in a satisfactory manner. Once the hallway was clear, Arrhae reached in to shift her magnetized container to the wall instead of its prior location as a tripping hazard. That accomplished, she strode to the eating room, plonked her box of electronics on the table, summoned a nutrient drink from the replicator, and placed herself in a chair that allowed her to watch through the open door.

While no one was visible, she drew her pistol and ducked her head down to get a sense of what her aim would be if she shot from beneath the table. Then she simply waited, listening to the sounds of people moving around. Presumably they were accessing the gravity-generators either via the 'fresher between the mess hall and her quarters, or from the ceiling in the floor below. Which would have been where they had accessed the things in the first place, the bastards. Unless perhaps the generators were in the floor below, and they'd removed weight from the little medbay as well?

She'd have to go down and make sure everything was in place there, after they were done.

Steps in the hallway heralded a fully-dressed t'Saii, who paused in the doorway. Arrhae looked at her till she finally said, "I—I hope you're all right, Commander."

Arrhae let that hang a moment, before saying softly, "You didn't tell me... the equipment was likely to fail." _You didn't warn me. You didn't stop them._

T'Saii winced, and didn't reply, either.

Arrhae waited a few heartbeats longer, then said, "I'll want a mesh netting installed in my room, over the bunk. Mildly elastic. In case, say, the gravity _reverses_. Or simply fails again."

"Yes, Commander," the other woman said. "I'll see to it."

"Thank you. Dismissed."

T'Saii took herself away promptly.


	13. Etrifvenir Ih'indaere

* * *

Arrhae stayed in the mess hall and plotted how to break D'liir. He at least had suspicions as to who had done that little prank — a potentially fatal one, if she'd thrown up and choked on it — and the right pressure might cause him to reveal who'd instigated it rather than who'd simply gone along with it. The whole bastard lot of third shift were guilty, obviously. The bridge crew of fourth shift might or might not have been aware of the matter. As for the others... t'Saii could well have been unaware of the plot, and not known which one to incriminate. T'Raedheol might or might not have known, but she'd spoken to cover for the others, not to reveal their treachery.

Arrhae was going to need a stimulant to get through her shift as alertly as she wanted to be, after this. She wouldn't have been waking for another two hours, normally.

Yet another reason to visit Medbay later.

Yet another reason to wish there were room on this ship to flog the lot of third shift till emerald blood speckled her face and the floor.

Killing them, most annoyingly, was out of the question. T'Raedheol liked at least one of them, D'liir might break in some untenable direction out of fear he'd be next, and t'Saii's coffee-bought loyalty hadn't quite extended to denouncing anyone.

And it was possible-to-likely that tr'Ronu would make himself annoying if she shot the whole of third shift, and _he_ was to be spared if she could, plus if she had to lock him up, that would reduce them to only two pilots.

 _Fvadt_. This was a miserable ship and a miserable situation. Admiral tr'Llhevil's offer was almost tempting.

Bastard had probably stacked the deck more than she knew, somehow, with this ill-begotten crew, and his was blood she was even less likely to ever see. Curse him.

She brooded.

It took nearly two hours before gravity was normalized in her quarters — and, indeed, in the Medbay alcove beneath. Arrhae acquired a selection of stimulants from the specialized programs, tested a hypo of an injectable on t'Saii — who did not fall over dead — and used one herself.

Then, box of electronics once more under her arm, she detoured to intercept D'liir before she went to the bridge. Her smile was stimulant-bright. "For your secondary duties," she said, "I want you to _personally_ verify that there are no... shorted wires... that might turn on my room's intercom without my intervention."

He looked like a frightened pet. "I'll have to start with the panel in your quarters, sir."

"Granted. Don't poke into my belongings without my permission. If there are any problems, after all, I will recall who had access." Her smile should have been wintery, but the stimulant lent a green haze to the edges of her vision, and a phantom tang of blood in her mouth. "Do a good job, D'liir. I'd hate to have to put someone else on the task."

She could probably have said anything and he'd have taken it for a threat. He ducked his head, stammered acknowledgement as he saluted, and all but ran for the ladder up to the second crew level.

Arrhae noted t'Saii mostly hidden behind the singularity's containment unit and called, "I'll be on the bridge," as she left.

Shortly thereafter, the fourth-shift pilot and sensors officer cringed when she stepped into the bridge. "Tr'Verih," she said to the pilot, whose cheekbones and forehead ridging made him look like a sculpted statue, even despite the cringing. "I have the helm. Go see if t'Saii requires any assistance from you. D'liir is busy."

He left the bridge with a murmured, "Sir!" and due haste.

She slid the box against the console and sat, glancing back at tr'Aeyn. He was more square-faced than tr'Verih, with indistinct, rounded forehead definition. She told him, "Tr'Dreth may be late. He pulled a long shift yesterday."

"He... did, sir?" tr'Aeyn said, with his fixed expression suggesting he might be jumping to an unpalatably wrong conclusion.

"So far as I know, he covered Jaeil's entire shift for her. I'll probably ask him to cover some of her shift today, as well, so I can run a few tests. Assuming anything in Medbay still works after the... gravitational glitch that third shift has been busy tracking down and fixing."

Tr'Aeyn was, sadly, among those who could control their expressions reasonably well. "Understood, sir."

"Very good." She turned her full attention to the helm's console and established that they were on course and making the time she'd expected — accounting for the detour to send messages without revealing their true heading.

Tr'Dreth arrived soon afterward, coming down from the upper crew quarters; possibly he'd lingered over his fastbreak meal in order to get third and fourth-shift gossip. He took over sensors with no unnecessary comments and tr'Aeyn departed out the other side.

After a pleasant hour or so of silence, accentuated by the quiet electronic noises of the bridge equipment and the comforting vibration of the engines, Arrhae said, "Tr'Dreth, if you could trade a half-hour's shift with Jaeil, it would let me scan her in Medbay and make sure she's fit for duty."

His lag in reply suggested that either he was extremely tired — which would not be surprising if he'd covered Jaeil's entire shift — or was thinking over the implications. Finally he said, "Yes, sir. I'll stay on here."

"Thank you," she said.

He made a little noise of acknowledgment, and they returned to, if not the "companionable" silence that she'd occasionally read about... At least a quiet existence, without cause for her to do anything but work on the monitoring program and make the occasional miniscule course correction where some rounding error had slid them off the perfectly efficient path.

As they closed in on the scheduled time for shift-change, when first would go to lighter duties of maintenance or occasional administration (and grab a snack if hungry) and second would take the primary jobs on the bridge and in engineering, Arrhae navigated the more fine-tuned bits of the intercom. Engineering had its own switch, and ship-wide had another, while Medbay and the Commander's Quarters each had a little button — but anything else took a moment in the console. She paused before triggering the one for the mess hall. "Tr'Dreth, is there anything I should know about the ship's comm? It doesn't short things out or cross-connect rooms oddly, yes?"

"No quirks with the comm that I know of, sir."

"Good." She flipped it. "This is the bridge. Is Jaeil at fastbreak?"

There was no swift reply, which might've been from the person nearest the comm swallowing, or might've been for everyone to glance at each other in alarm. Eventually a male voice came on, which she was fairly sure was tr'Ronu. "Yes, sir."

"Ask her to report to the Medbay at shift-change. Tr'Dreth will cover that for an extra half-hour or so."

Another long, lagging silence, before tr'Ronu said, "Yes, sir."

"Thank you. Bridge out." She tapped the off-icon and slid the intercom interface to the edge of the mutable part of the console. Then she worked on making sure that all the displays were tidy, her programming work was tucked out of sight entirely, and that they were on the most precise course possible. Tr'Ronu didn't like her anyway, so she would simply annoy him with as much perfection as she could create.


	14. Hifvai'rhe

* * *

At the appointed time, tr'Ronu appeared, and Arrhae gave over the helm with the standard words. She didn't bother with any explanations of why she wanted Jaeil reporting to the Medbay; tr'Dreth could discuss it with the other man after she'd left the bridge.

She didn't want to slide between the back of Helm's seat and the sensors-station, though, and went roundabout — up through the hatch to the second level of the crew quarters, where she put her container of electronics back into one of her cabinets (the intercom's panel was open, but D'liir wasn't in evidence), then down the central ladder to the first level.

Jaeil was standing outside the door there, looking grey-sallow, with dark circles under her eyes. Arrhae furrowed her brows a little before stopping herself from that reaction. She'd expected the medical scan to be a formality and an excuse to talk to the other woman, but Jaeil appeared sincerely sick.

Jaeil backed away a step as she approached, which let Arrhae slide the door open and slither inside to lower the medical bed's heavy side-rail. "Here, come lie down. You don't look well."

Hesitantly, Jaeil moved in to sit on the edge of the med-bed, with the door sliding shut behind her. "I... I'm sorry. I didn't realize—"

Arrhae held up a hand to stem the explanations or excuses. "Are you behind the 'glitch' that cut the gravity to my quarters?"

" _No!_ No, sir! Commander! I—I—"

Arrhae flicked her fingers. "Then I'm not angry with you. Lie down now."

With brown eyes huge, Jaeil finally obeyed, watching as Arrhae lifted the med-bed's railing back into position, lowered the upper scan-arch from where it folded against the wall, and made sure the connections were good. The default scans were easy enough; she barely needed the medical classes she'd added to her course-load when she'd decided doctors were unlikely to be sufficiently trustworthy for anything but situations where one had little to lose.

She scanned for infections, general health, hormonal balances...

She paused, then ran a specific scan again. And a third time, just to be sure. Then, with those results in mind, she dug around in a drawer for a small hypo to pull some blood — Jaeil looked as if she were about to be poisoned, but didn't resist — and stuck that into the wall-slot where such samples could be analyzed.

While that was running, the computer helpfully noting every nutritional imbalance as she'd asked it to do, Arrhae firmly reminded herself that burying her face in her hands was not befitting the dignity of even an enarrain of the Tal Shiar.

After a moment of staring at the computer as if it would suddenly reveal it had been suborned and this was all a prank... She tapped some instructions for the tiny replicator and pulled out the results one at a time as they shimmered into existence.

She set the three pills on the counter and went to release Jaeil from the med-bed's arch. "Here, you can sit up now," Arrhae said, and offered a hand that, from Jaeil's expression, the buxom woman would rather not have had before her. Still, she took it and actually relied on it somewhat as she pushed herself into a sitting position on the bed.

Arrhae leaned over and picked up the first pill. "This is a nutritional supplement. You should take one of these every day for a tenday, and I'll want to do another scan afterward." She replicated a small cup of water and handed that over as well, waiting while Jaeil resigned herself to taking whatever she'd been given and hoping it wasn't poison or an unknown drug.

From somewhat limited experience, Arrhae generally preferred people to know if they were taking interrogation drugs — or poison, for that matter. Their own minds would betray them as often as not, exacerbating the effects. The only time one didn't want someone to know what they were taking is if it were only a placebo, or if one didn't want them to realize they'd taken _anything_.

She didn't bother explaining this, and only kept watching till Jaeil got the nutritional supplement down.

Then she handed over the second pill. "This one is for nausea." She ignored Jaeil's stricken look and pointed to the third, on the counter at the end of the room. "And that's if you want to be rid of it entirely."

Nausea pill and mostly-empty mug tumbled to the floor as Jaeil dropped _her_ face into her hands and said entirely unintelligible things behind her palms.

Arrhae reflected that the Universe was trying to tell her something, but she wasn't sure what. Probably something that Klingons would wash its mouth out with soap for saying.

When Jaeil didn't surface after a few moments, Arrhae said, "I truly mean the 'if.' This route should take us less than two tendays. You're not far along. With something for the nausea, it shouldn't interfere overmuch with your work." She sighed and added, "And I can cover some of the sensor-duties if necessary, so tr'Dreth won't be pulling all the extra shifts."

Jaeil made a noise that was probably a strangled sob, and Arrhae was forced to admit that of all the ways for a pregnancy to be confirmed (or revealed)... Having the news delivered via Tal Shiar was perhaps... _awkward_.

Being matter-of-fact hadn't thwarted an emotional reaction. Arrhae tried a different approach. Attempting to make her voice gentle, or at least softer, she said, "Did you not know?"

The other woman made head movements and sounds behind her hands that conveyed... perhaps self-deluding denial.

Arrhae stooped for the nausea-reducing pill and the mug, and stuffed them both back into the replicator to recycle and replace. She set them on the counter and leaned against the wall, which was barely shifting her stance at all, considering how cramped the Medbay was. Med-closet, really. Silently, she reviewed what she knew from the reports on Jaeil.

Firstly, she had no clan-name listed. The implication was, thus, that she was somehow ill-born. Parents who were bondservants too incompetent to have their contracts sold elsewhere, and had simply been turned out and ordered away from household and House, perhaps. Or a result of a liaison that neither parent could acknowledge without dire consequences. Perhaps a criminal, exiled and shunned. Perhaps she had been abandoned as a baby. Or, at best, somehow orphaned in a way that left no evidence for a clan to belong to, even at a distant remove.

The more complete report hadn't answered that question, and had left only the conclusion that a clanless woman might find military service convenient — and the military, in the wake of the uprisings and coups, had quickly shed what scruples it might have had regarding folk who gave no House name, nor even a birthplace one.

The second report did, however, note that Jaeil drank a bit too freely, both when on leave and when stressed. The suggestion there was that Commander tr'Hoiim had been bribing her with a private stash in his quarters, not blackmailing her, but without knowing who'd _written_ the report... Tr'Hoiim had been promoted upward, and was serving on _Firestorm_. One of the old, traditional names, that. For all Arrhae knew, tr'Hoiim might've supplied the extra information himself. It wouldn't have been surprising if Arrhae had been placed on the ship solely to _dis_ place an agent to another location, with all the focus on the Director's nepotism for his ward.

Well, perhaps not _solely_. It gave her a ship. It provided experience. She might not be qualified for the ship now, but by two tendays...

Failure was not an option for Arrhae T'Solos. It never had been.


	15. Ssiun Aehaavha

* * *

The trouble with this Jaeil situation, however, was that "failure" was a nebulous thing, with no clear-cut boundary to demark it from "success" or at least _llilla'hu_ , "barely sufficient." The easy thing would be to order Jaeil to take that third pill, make the arrangements for her to monopolize one of the 'freshers for a ship-day or two, and have done with the complications; the woman was probably fertile enough to get another one later if she wanted.

But the child might be healthy, yet, despite the drinking. And it wasn't like Arrhae herself had any father she knew about. She barely had any other names than her first and birthplace ones: clan s'Solos was painfully rural, tiny, and poor. If they'd taken charge of her after her mother's death — her renegade, willful mother, who'd run off to space instead of settling down to farm and herd _hlai'hwy_ — the boarding school would have seen no further cash from her, including the debt that was to have been paid once her mother returned from that ill-fated, fatal trip. And according to her teachers (who'd not realized she was eavesdropping), making Arrhae a bondservant to the school would have been a waste, nearly as much as shipping her back to rural s'Solos.

House s'Solos would not have been able to hold Arrhae any more than it had held her mother. She might've easily sought a military position, if there'd been no freighters who'd want a runaway.

So Jaeil's situation was, on the surface, uncomfortably... mirror-like. Save that Arrhae would never, she thought, _ever_ have let her contraceptive implant expire.

But the weeping was getting annoying. "Jaeil," Arrhae said, tapping her on the arm. "Take the nausea pill. Or I will have to make that a rather cranky order. If you don't think you can keep it down, I'll make the replicator provide an injectable."

"T-that might be good, sir," Jaeil managed to say.

Arrhae went back to force the replicator away from its default programming — and thinking on it, whose darling idea was it to provide a _nausea_ treatment in a form that had to be _swallowed_? True, Rihannsu were rarely subject to the malady, so perhaps as a pre-emptive treatment before zero-gravity maneuvers? Still...

She slotted the drug ampule into the hypo and administered it to Jaeil's neck. After putting everything away and having the replicator recycle the unneeded pill, she asked, "Better?"

"...yes," Jaeil managed, still sounding miserable.

"Mm." Arrhae leaned her hips against the counter and decided on her course. "Attend to me," she said, which was the formal imperative phrase.

It had the desired effect, though Jaeil still looked like a terrified pet, wide-eyed and staring.

"I will not say this matter is none of my business. I have been placed in command of this ship, and the health of the crew is my business now. However." Arrhae gave that a moment to sink in. "I _do not care_ about this matter, so long as it does not impact your duties overmuch. Terminate now or wait to see how it develops, whichever. I merely want to know what inconveniences will need to be scheduled around. And it is inconvenient enough either way, without making your decision for you and being blamed for it ever after."

Jaeil continued to stare, now wringing her hands. Arrhae supposed that if this were an interrogation, the subject would be near to breaking. Of the options — waiting for the words to come, or demanding them — the odds were slightly worse for snapping _well?!_ or the like. Harshness was more likely to send the subject into a hysterical, unproductive state.

So Arrhae waited quietly, glancing at Jaeil's hands to indicate she was paying attention to the "tell," and reflecting that if patience didn't work, she could always resort to a more aggressive option.

After all the frustrations, she was sadly grateful to the Universe when patience not only succeeded, but took less than a minute. Jaeil said, "It—it depends on who the father is."

Arrhae blinked. That was a consideration that had not crossed her mind. "You... wouldn't have to name anyone," she offered. Arrhae's mother never had.

Jaeil blinked back at her and scrubbed at her face with the heel of one hand. "If it's the right one, then he might, his clan might, for the baby..."

"Oh." She let the enlightenment show in her expression. Of course there would be a chance a clan might grant a name and aid to even a somewhat ill-gotten child, if it were healthy, and Jaeil, clanless for whatever reason, would value that. "I believe the bed sensors could get enough of a genetic reading to match... but I'd need to get a scan of the suspect. The possible father, I mean. Or a cell sample, such as hair might have."

Back to wringing her hands, Jaeil said, more to her knees than to Arrhae, "Maybe... a—a scan. Of everyone..."

Arrhae wasn't sure that meant that Jaeil had been making assignations with every male on the ship, or simply wanted the candidates to be unaware what was going on. Unable to compare notes of who'd been called for a gene-scan. She decided firmly that she did not care about _that_ question, either. "You can't bring me hair strands?" When that secured only another pathetic look, she added, "You are seriously asking _me_ to contrive a 'health scan' of everyone on the ship, in order to preserve—" Well, to preserve Jaeil's dignity, she supposed.

"I—I'm sorry, sir. No, of course not, sir."

Arrhae held up a hand. "Let me think." Dignity was not something that Hakeev discussed. Even _mnhei'sahe_ was more paid lip service to: a set of outmoded rules of behavior that one followed in public to make others think one was bound by them. Obedience and deference were demanded.

And yet, in the boarding school she'd studied at, before her mother died, there had been history classes. Fleet Commander Donatra's father had been the one who not only took Turkana IV for the Star Empire — after the Andorian Coalition had destroyed the initial resistance — but he had also made the Turkanan humans _welcome_ their Rihannsu saviors. Granting dignity had been deemed an essential part of courtesy, and courtesy was vital to _mnhei'sahe_.

Courtesy had won a planet. A colony that had been founded by xenophobes who objected to Terra's welcome of the Vulcan refugees. Yes, the Coalition forces had shot most of those who'd had more xenophobia than sense, and otherwise made themselves objectionable to the Turkanans, but loyal Turkanans were in the Rihan military now, and according to her teacher, tended to _hate_ their Terran cousins for not rescuing them from the cesspit their planet had become.

Loyalty begat obedience. Circle back, and outmoded rules or not, the goal was the loyalty of one's followers.

Even, perhaps, the pathetic and clanless.

Arrhae lowered her hand. "Upon consideration, once I have finished my ship inspection, I will undoubtedly be bored within a day or two at the outside. A medical check of everyone will amuse me for another day or three. If you can provide samples earlier than that, I'll scan them, of course. Acceptable?"

"Oh, yes, sir! Thank you!"

Arrhae took the third pill and sent it back into the replicator. "If you change your mind first, tell me, and I'll provide the appropriate medication and the time off to deal with the effects. But even a tenday probably won't much affect that. And I'll program the replicator here to let you have anti-nausea pills."

The barely-coherent thanks were as bad as the incoherent weeping. Arrhae finally lifted a hand again. "Before you return to your duties — you are fit for them, now?" At the frantic nod, she continued, "I will be inspecting second shift's quarters. Will I be displeased?"

"Not by me," Jaeil said, quietly but fervently.

"You have ten minutes to tell your fellow occupants of that room where I intend to go. Anything I would be annoyed by should be disposed of, not merely hidden. I may inspect quarters again, without warning, if I become bored. Don't leave tr'Dreth on your shift much longer. Understood?"

"Understood, sir!"

"Good. Dismissed."

Jaeil all but jumped off the med-bed, bounced her shoulder off the wall facing it, and hurriedly slid open the door. Arrhae let the door close on its springs, and inspected the medical "closet" itself while she waited. Everything seemed in order, although sparse, as if people simply replicated what they needed when they needed it. Arrhae didn't approve of that; if there were an emergency, the replicator might be _non-functional_. She began stocking the medical closet.


	16. Llhnaeri i Ahyanir

* * *

Giving second shift the warning was... a weapon with two blades and no hilt. She _intended_ to indicate she would start with a clean slate. Ask no questions of their past behavior, and hear no lies — but equally, let them shed bad habits if they could. Unfortunately, it risked they would think her lax and indulgent.

Balancing between indulgence and harshness was difficult — especially when there were eleven individuals who each had their own preconceptions.

Tr'Ronu would only be obedient with occasional punishment, she suspected. T'Saii and Jaeil seemed to respond well to, essentially, bribery. Third shift... might still find themselves shot. Fourth was more a mystery than not, though D'liir was apparently easily intimidated... hopefully without becoming secretly vindictive.

And, of course, all of these interlocked. Shoot tr'Ronu and the others would adjust their opinions and behavior based on the action, and not necessarily in ways she wanted.

Not that she was supposed to be shooting him anyway, but rounding his ears wasn't out of the question. And surely a pilot didn't need _all_ his fingers to use a console?

The trick there would be stopping while he still had fingers left — or ears, depending where she started.

She slid the final cabinet door closed. Firmly. Light to moderate painkillers, coagulants, radiation-poisoning treatments, and emergency food and water supplies had been packed into the empty spaces in the med-closet. With a couple minutes left, Arrhae replicated a number of nutrient bars and squeeze-bottles of water for herself. If the replicators shut off, gravity might also be in legitimately short supply, after all.

Fortunately for _her_ dignity, she remembered to replicate a carry-bag — well, pillowcase — before rediscovering the problems of climbing ladders while also carrying an armful of supplies.

In the upper hall, a number of the panels were hanging open. Arrhae raised an eyebrow and continued to her quarters, where she discovered the wall-comm was now a panel's worth of wires and links, and part of the wall had been entirely removed. Her 'fresher door was closed.

She stowed the food and water in one of the uniform boxes, on the grounds that uniforms were slightly harder to poison than food and water, and went to tap on the 'fresher door.

"Yes?" came from inside the room, in a male voice. D'liir's, she thought.

"Camera-removal going well?" she asked, on a hunch.

There was a long silence and finally a faintly ill, "Yes, sir."

"Good. Continue," she instructed. D'liir was frightened of her (showing far better sense than tr'Ronu), but living next to a dangerous predator would be made easier for him if the predator had consistent habits and only became angry with obvious cause. Follow her orders, and the predator would not feast on his entrails.

Nothing besides the wall had been tampered with, according to her quick inspection of her locked containers and a scan of the uniform she'd left in the high bank of cabinets. She folded the now-empty pillowcase and tucked it into her belt, in case of finding contraband, and made her way back down the ladder to the second-shift bunkroom.

T'Saii was in residence, kneeling on an upper bunk, with her head and arms inside the ceiling. A ceiling panel hung precariously off the side of the bunk.

Arrhae climbed the ladder to that bunk and carefully dragged the panel into a more stable location. The movement caught the engineer's attention and she ducked her head, freezing when she saw who it was. "Uh, sir," t'Saii said.

"Removing contraband or hiding it?" Arrhae asked, letting her curious tone show a bit of pleasant edge.

"Neither, sir," t'Saii said. "Just making sure there aren't any taps leading _here_ , sir, because if you find any, you're going to space everyone who bunks in this room."

Considering that room housed two engineers and a sensors operator... "Plausible," Arrhae agreed. "And without coffee, too. Find anything?"

T'Saii stuck her head back into the space above the ceiling. "I'd only been concerned about cutting any cameras spying on this room, before, sir. So, er... I think I've been overlooking a lot of feeds. That go... places."

Arrhae knew how old the ship was; it predated, barely, the Reman coup. Furthermore, considering there were four shifts, each including an engineer and a sensors officer — both occupations which had excuses to be competent with things like cameras and microphones — as well as pilots who might have hobbies... She said, again, "Plausible."

"We are all very _plausible_ ," t'Saii said bitterly.

"It keeps angry superior officers from shooting people. Here, let me see."

"Just a moment... There." The engineer shifted out of the way, and Arrhae climbed up to get her own view of the mess.

And it was indeed a mess. There were cables that snaked across where clearly none had been intended, as well as boxes that interrupted existing cables — both official and not — and had more wires leading from them. Arrhae shone the small flashlight around the area and made noises of disbelief and minor technical outrage. The prize was the one marked "Intrcm" in ink on the metal. That had a box that tapped into it, with a wire leading out which had _also_ been tapped into, and both the remaining feeds had their own taps, then again, then two with splices where the cord had simply been cut and linked to another one instead, and finally several of the tapping-wires were revealed as loose. Upon pulling on one, it emerged with a frayed, cut end and a paper note wrapped around it.

Arrhae pulled that one out into the better light, but was disappointed to find whatever comment it had borne was too faded to decipher. "This ship has made runs of several months in the past, hasn't it."

"Yes, sir," t'Saii said. "It gets pretty boring."

_And Universe preserve us from bored, technically-inclined crew._ Arrhae went up on her knees again and gave the thing another look before moving away from the open panel. "Try not to break your intercom," she suggested, scooting back to the bunk's ladder. "I'll do the inspection of the, ah, lower levels."

"Yes, sir. Watch out for the far cabinet's door, there. It sticks and if you pull it wrong, it'll bite your fingers." T'Saii resumed her work.

"Warning appreciated," Arrhae said, and started a polite disassembling of the room.

Most of an hour later, she had uncovered a cache of tart, hard candies that she suspected were Jaeil's; a selection of datasticks that were _also_ marked as pornography, probably t'Raedheol's; an impressive collection of little cameras and microphones of varying designs, that t'Saii claimed as removed attempts to spy on that room; and the equipment for a small distillery, which had been hidden behind a wall-panel.

The last, t'Saii just stared at for a moment. "I don't think any of us even knew that was there, sir."

It was certainly plausibly ( _ha_ ) dusty, and further investigations turned up nothing to use in it — though perhaps the replicator could make something that could be fermented, with enough work? Arrhae shook her head and carried the bits off with her in the carrysack-pilowcase, along with all the cameras and microphones, and t'Raedheol's pornography collection.

In theory, copying the datasticks was to ensure that people didn't hide more troubling material — works inciting treason, codes for treasonous plots, and similar themes — among "simple porn" files. In practice, it offered possible blackmail of the possessor for their tastes, and the participants in any visuals. More subtly, it gave clues as to what manipulation might prove effective against someone.

And, tawdry but true, it allowed a free supply to those who'd confiscated it, both for personal edification and to use as a currency of favors among others.

Arrhae fed the datasticks to her computer, while D'liir made weak assurances that he'd have the wall closed up by the end of the shift-change, and did not sigh that there was really no way for even that small supply of "currency" to remain in _her_ possession.

The helpful computer, tucking the files away into itself, had come to her by her guardian's hand. Perhaps he had not programmed in back doors, but only caused something to be delivered from storage — but he was the Director of the Tal Shiar. A standard computer would open to his codes.

So at best, she might copy off her own datasticks, and hide them in her own wall. Whereupon, if discovered (as they probably would be; hiding them from a thorough search would take resources that the crew would notice missing), they could be matched to what she had in the computer. Once matched, she could hardly claim they'd been left there by Commander tr'Hoiim or tr'Ronu, so then Hakeev would ask her why she had made, and hidden, duplicates.

There was really no good answer to that. She was supposed to be above wanting such petty entertainment. If she called it "instructional," he would ask why she'd felt the need to hide copies, rather than viewing it from the computer and curating a file-list according to utility. And if she admitted she had wanted "trade goods," he would ask why, when he provided everything she needed. Bartering of confiscated material was for those who had no patrons.

And then there would be tendays, or even months, of him making sure she knew _quite well_ that she had nothing he had not given her. And thus, nothing that he could not take away again. Or direct her to dispose of.

She closed and secured the computer before returning the datasticks to where she'd found them. T'Saii had put back the panel, and evidently washed her face and hands before spending a few minutes in the mess hall with a large mug of coffee before she returned to primary duties.

Arrhae had a small nutrient drink while standing beside the replicator, and simply nodded to the engineer as she left again for the bridge.


	17. Aehfvisam, Temaehfvi

* * *

Near the end of that set of their primary duties, tr'Dreth commented, "Jaeil's looking better today, sir."

"She's apparently been under enough stress that she's had some nutritional issues," Arrhae said blandly. "I prescribed a supplement."

After a moment, tr'Dreth said, "Ah, some of the crew had thought she might go with the old commander, when he left the ship, sir."

A hint that they'd known Jaeil was pregnant? Guessed? Simply thought Commander tr'Hoiim was fond of Jaeil's extremely noticeable bosom? A false clue to distract from a remaining crewman being responsible for Jaeil's condition? "Perhaps the stress of the situation has been upsetting her," Arrhae said, as if she cared even less.

"She doesn't do well with stress, no," tr'Dreth agreed, 

"And a change in commanders must be a large amount of stress, on a small ship like this," Arrhae mused, struck by an idea. "Unknown personalities coming into the situation. And immediately sent onto a route, with no way to request a change in assignments. Perhaps I should check everyone's nutritional and stress levels, to ensure no one else has had any un-realized heath impact from the situation."

"Ah—"

"Really, why should I only disrupt _her_ schedule, when I can disrupt _everyone's_?" Arrhae said, smiling brightly over her shoulder. Less sadistically, she continued, "Besides, it will give me a chance to talk to people when I'm not chiding them about... poor maintenance of the gravity generators.

Tr'Dreth looked defeated in the face of so much plausibility. Tr'Ronu, lurking in the doorway and only visible after she'd turned, said, "Or rummaging through their belongings?"

"Is anything missing, tr'Ronu?" Arrhae asked, as sweet as a knife edged with nectar. She got out of the helm's seat, stepping towards the ladder behind her.

"Would you give it back if I said yes?" His pronouns were properly subordinate, though his tone was only barely neutral enough for her to ignore the lack of "sir."

"Since the only thing I've taken was a dismantled distillery, which is most plainly contraband," she said, "that would be 'No.' If you're missing anything, I don't have it. If you wish me to look for some possession gone astray, please, describe it."

Tr'Ronu came and slid into the helm's chair. "Never mind."

"If there's anything you _want_ me to confiscate, leave it secured outside your room," Arrhae suggested.

"Never mind. Sir." He glowered at the console.

She ran her tongue along the back of her teeth and thought of catching her emotions in mental claws. Pinning them. Dissecting them. Keeping them from her face. And. Yet. She caught tr'Dreth's eye and flicked her fingers to the door.

He didn't argue with her. He muttered something about visiting the 'fresher, and left.

Tr'Ronu turned his head to watch the other man go, and Arrhae had her pistol pressed against the base of his skull before he could turn back. He froze, then growled, "You won't do it." But he used the correct _you_ for a superior.

Pleasantly, softly, she murmured, "Oh, you mistake the situation. You see, between you and third shift, I don't know who I want to kill more. But if I get rid of you _and_ space third shift, that leaves the ship with only two pilots. Tell me, tr'Ronu, which of you is better? You, or Konra?"

"Better at what?" he asked, trying to put a leer into it and... failing. Noticeably failing.

"Piloting. Or, perhaps, obedience."

"Depends," he said, "on if you've earned it."

She dug the pistol's tip into his spine a little harder before she caught herself. "You think the ward of the Director of the Tal Shiar has not earned everything she has?"

"Haven't earned. Our. Respect."

"This ship, and his crew, have been given to me," she corrected him. "Obedience is not yours to withhold."

"That's not how Fleet works, Tal Shiar. Commanders prove themselves."

She might have barked laughter, for this was a _spy-ship_ , not some Warbird that would face battle. But that would have been unkind to little _6-5-3_ , and risked that he would take offense. "It's how this ship works now. Because I _am_ Tal Shiar, and I command him. And I. Expect. Obedience."

"Bluffing," he said, without any pronouns at all.

There was a trick that one could pull with a plasma pistol and the right tools. Arrhae put her other hand's fingers on the control — a deadman switch, that would return the weapon to normal power if her fingers left it — and pulled the trigger.

The smell of burning hair came quickly, and he tried to jerk away from the sudden heat. She released the trigger so she could grab one of his ears. Fine ones, they were, long and tapered and perfect for getting a grip on. The pistol's muzzle still held heat and she pressed it against his earlobe. "Remember, tr'Ronu. If you get maimed, I've got the codes for Medbay's replicator and locks."

He was silent, rigid, perhaps concerned — as he should be — that if he struggled too much, she might kill him by accident. Perhaps thinking of whether he could get her weapon and turn it on her. She hoped he was too intelligent for that.

From the doorway, Jaeil said, "Is something burning? There's not a short, is there?"

Arrhae stepped away from tr'Ronu, holstering the weapon discreetly. "It shouldn't get any worse. It's nothing vital."

"...oh," the other woman said, apparently realizing the situation.

"Are you fine to take the sensors?" Arrhae asked her.

"Y-yes, sir."

"If you'll be needing anything, best ask now. I'm not sure of the state of my intercom."

"Truly, sir, I'm well enough."

"Mm." She set her hand to the ladder. "I'll be going, then."

She didn't formally turn the bridge over to tr'Ronu. He didn't say anything. Neither did Jaeil.

Arrhae closed the hatch behind herself and decided bugging the bridge would be high priority. Being unable to eavesdrop on tr'Ronu — and third shift, and perhaps fourth — was likely to be a mistake.


	18. Na Daetra Argeresem

* * *

It took three more ship-days to finish her thorough inspection. She uncovered a stash of unauthorized stimulants in third shift's bunkroom, scanned them, found several of the small containers to be expired and less effective, and lectured the shift on using old stimulants instead of replicating fresh ones at regular intervals — and then on the risks of using unapproved ones instead of what the replicator could supply. ("There are four engineers on this ship! The replicators should provide far more reliable compounds than some random shop on the ground!") The stimulants went into the replicator for recycling, and she issued a far smaller number of fresh ones, guaranteed not to decay into anything that might produce euphorics.

Then Arrhae descended immediately upon the fourth shift's bunkroom and confiscated everyone's not-well-enough-hidden pornography, "to check for restricted material." Back in her room, she discovered half of it was actually trashy novels and vids, plus a couple datasticks of collected Klingon epic poetry.

She checked a few of those titles and discovered that Klingons could write some very steamy poetry for a bunch of "peasants" or "animals."

The shift after that, she handed the datasticks back to the residents of the room she'd found them in, noting that the collection from fourth shift's room had seemed to be twice what had been expected. (Later, t'Saii confided that third shift had tried to pass some small items to second shift, and been rebuffed. Allegedly, tr'Dreth had also turned away would-be conspirators. Arrhae made a note to acquire more types of Terran coffee, whether replicator programs or actual materials, as soon as that became possible. Candy went on that list as well. It was enough to turn a girl's thoughts to piratical fancies, except for the whole "under-armed spyship" thing.)

She managed to plant only one microphone in that whole time, on the bridge, due to outsmarting herself with t'Saii and D'liir. The engineers, not content with removing any risk of spying devices in Arrhae's quarters and second shift's bunkroom, had gone on a rampage of attempting to tidy up old or overlooked splices, recording devices, and wireless transmitters, moving throughout the ship. When the pair presented her with a bucket of the things they'd recovered from the walls and ceilings, rather like young hunting beasts delivering "dead" training-decoys to their master, she'd finally reassured them that they could stop now.

Jaeil continued, for reasons unknown, to watch Arrhae with an expression of terrified... worship, she finally decided. And that a woman half again Arrhae's age would be _worshipful_ towards a Tal Shiar enarrain... She wasn't sure if this counted as tarnishing the organization's reputation or not. She wasn't even sure how she'd managed such a dramatic reaction.

Tr'Ronu continued surly, barely beneath the threshold of her tolerance, and she began contemplating how she might lock him in his quarters without inconveniencing tr'Dreth overmuch.

This led her, on a secondary-duty shift, to resolutely seat herself next to t'Saii during the engineer's small-meal, bearing a large mug of coffee to replenish what t'Saii already had. The other woman looked at it, then at Arrhae, and set down the datapad she'd been reading. "Sir?"

Voice only lowered — the mess hall had been one of the sites scoured for bugs — Arrhae said, "Tr'Ronu."

T'Saii looked wary, and nodded, which probably meant... she was trying to decide if Arrhae was soliciting assistance in spacing him, and stalling for time.

"He expected to take command when Commander tr'Hoiim left?"

"Oh. Ah." T'Saii looked relieved, around the shoulders and arms more than her expression. "Probably, sir. It would've been him or Dreth."

"Not you?"

She pulled at one of her un-Rihannsu ringlets. "Too human, sir. I might make Second Engineer on a big ship sometime, on skill alone — but I'd need a patron for anything else."

Unsurprising, really. Under Hakeev's administration, t'Saii would've been rejected out of hand, had she applied to join the Tal Shiar. And while Fleet accepted Turkanan humans, they didn't advance past certain levels either, without patronage.

Softly, Arrhae said, "All favors are owed to my guardian." She tapped her fingers on the table. "If, after we have returned to ch'Rihan, he comes to make his own inspection, I will of course offer you leave first, if I can. And Jaeil." And quite possibly D'liir, if she could contrive it.

T'Saii gave that statement another considering silence. "Understood, sir."

"In other matters, my guardian will expect certain standards to be kept," Arrhae said, steering things back. "Tr'Ronu's resentful behavior places me in an uncomfortable position." That was not the face of the matter she'd intended to illuminate, but if t'Saii didn't want tr'Ronu killed, maimed, or shock-collared, then it would be better not to reveal exactly how much Arrhae _did_ want all of those things. Normally, she did not choose the role of the _kind_ interrogator. She didn't have the patience for it, when the subject — real or role-played — was obstinate. But this wasn't an interrogation, and t'Saii wasn't balky. Perhaps Arrhae wanted to lash out at tr'Ronu; she had more self-discipline than to take out her frustration overmuch on someone who'd done nothing to deserve it.

T'Saii's shoulders had tightened again. "What are..." She shut her mouth firmly and reached for her coffee mug.

"I would rather not kill him out of hand," Arrhae said, which was a base lie in her heart, but the truth of her orders regarding his life.

T'Saii muttered, "Least not till you find out if he's the father?"

Arrhae twitched an eyebrow. "She told you the situation?"

"Mm." T'Saii sought answers at the bottom of her mug. "Humans call it 'morning-sickness,' Grandmother said. She didn't have it, but Mother did. Not so rare with humans as with us. And Jaeil always had a nervous stomach anyway."

"Does t'Raedheol know, too?"

"Hard to keep secrets in a bunkroom unless you never speak at all."

"Ah. Well. It is certainly one consideration. I have others."

"What can I do to help, sir?"

"I need to know what discipline the crew will tolerate, towards him, without morale being damaged overmuch. My imagination runs to cranial explosives and shock-collars, but there are more traditional methods, such as flogging. Or house arrest. It would be nice to know what would work on him for more than a few days."

"Um."

"My report will, perhaps, downplay the extent of his disrespect. But that will be sent while we are still out here, so if the matter is not resolved by the time we return..." Well, probably what would happen would be some carefully planned stage direction, which would let her at least _start_ peeling tr'Ronu's skin off his body before Director Hakeev rescued the man. As the rescue would probably involve Arrhae getting slapped and having to apologize humbly to tr'Ronu's patron or/and tr'Ronu himself... the amount of pain she caused him might not be quite worth it. Especially if Hakeev wanted tr'Ronu's patron well-pleased, for that could wind up with _Arrhae_ getting flogged.

"Sir, ah..." T'Saii was biting her lip.

"Ideas?"

"Maybe I could... let him know how much danger he's in?"

She folded her hands under her chin. "Would that help? I've already told him that I'm having trouble deciding if he or Konra annoyed me more. It doesn't seem to have had enough effect."

"He may think you're bluffing."

"I know. He said so. I am not bluffing about hurting him. But I do not wish to unduly upset the rest of the crew."

"I... should start work on making a collar, I guess..."

Arrhae breathed, "I have one in my luggage."

T'Saii stared for a moment, then pulled the fresher mug of coffee to her and drank. "Please give me a few days, sir, to try to get some sense into him?"

"I will try. My patience wears thin."

"I'll do my best. At least everyone will... will probably decide it's his own fault if you have to do that."

 _I must definitely find her more coffees,_ Arrhae thought, as she stood. "I hope we can resolve this with a minimum of unpleasantries."

"Me too, sir."

Arrhae took the empty mug to the replicator, and left the room while t'Saii had both hands around the other cup, staring at nothing in particular and looking worried.

It was good to have people who would do things for one. It was better to have people who did them for such minor things as coffee and small kindnesses, rather than due to blackmail (either direction), threats, favor-trading relating to assignments, or other such murky or coerced reasons. Arrhae ensconced herself in her quarters and worked on the ship-report. They would be reaching the first of the satellites tomorrow, and the report was to be sent back then.


	19. Saeihr'hhaonn

The satellite was, obviously, cloaked. According to protocol, they moved the _6-5-3_ into the general area, made their own scans to ensure no hostile ships were around, and decloaked to broadcast a coded signal.

"And there's its decloak," Jaeil said, for they'd arrived during second shift's active. On the bridge's display, the observational satellite was now centered and obvious.

"Moving into range for tighter communications," tr'Ronu growled.

Arrhae ignored his tone; she wasn't beside him, anyway, in the usually-empty tactical seat. Instead, she was half-perched on the ladder-rungs to the crew quarters, up by Jaeil's station.

Jaeil said, "Almost within standard transmission range... There."

"Cutting thrust, establishing station-keeping," tr'Ronu reported.

"Establishing link. Downloading the data. Estimated time to completion... About half an hour."

Arrhae asked, "Is the link slow, or does it have that much stored data?"

Jaeil indicated one of the console windows. "Here's the total file size, sir."

Arrhae whistled at it. "Is that close to filling its storage?"

Tr'Ronu said, "Something you don't know, Enarrain?"

Apparently t'Saii hadn't managed to talk to him yet. Or it hadn’t helped. Arrhae said, "It's not part of the ship, so I didn't study it." She added to Jaeil, "I'll be sending my initial report back via the satellite's link, but I think I should wait to upload it until after we've received everything."

"Yes, sir," Jaeil said. "If the satellite's storage is nearly full, adding more could lose some data. If you can queue the message, I'll make sure it sends as soon as we're done receiving."

"I'll go do that now. We are watching for hostile ships while everything is uncloaked?"

"Standard procedure, sir. The transmission here shouldn't need much attention."

"Good." Arrhae went up the ladder to add the encrypted report to the list of things to send — she doubted it would be the only letter home, after all — and spent a moment checking over the shock-collar that she'd thought would be so much overkill. It still worked, and still refused to work on her, as programmed. She wished she had three more, or perhaps five more, for extras.

But she didn't. She packed up what she did have and sealed it away again before returning to the bridge to verify the message was waiting to be sent. After that, she spent the next not-quite-half-hour doing final tests on the code to snapshot what was going on when the station-keeping program glitched. If they were going to station-keep near the satellites, they might as well be trying to get more data about the error as well.

She wasn't fool enough to insist it be loaded while they were still draining the satellite of data, though, so once _that_ bit of fine-tuning was done, she put the code in an accessible part of the ship's computer and returned to watching over people's shoulders on the bridge; it would be time for first shift to go back on duty soon, anyway.

Tr'Dreth showed up shortly afterwards, also early, and hung over Jaeil's other shoulder to watch as she set up analysis programs in anticipation of the transmission's end. As far as Arrhae could tell, they seemed easy enough together, though she couldn't decipher whether it was the ease that bespoke a liaison that had ended on a friendly note, a casual one that might continue, or an entire lack of liaising.

Jaeil paused and turned to one of the other displays on the console. "That's odd..."

"Hm?" tr'Dreth said, leaning to get a look as well. "Star noise, isn't it?"

"Maybe." She tapped on the console. "Odd pattern to it, though."

"Not sure I'm seeing it," he said.

"I suppose..." She sounded reluctant to let it go.

Arrhae suggested, "If it's star noise, you can probably confirm what the local stars sound like, from the satellite's recordings. Compare the reading once we've got the data? We're supposed to be analyzing that anyway, to see if the algorithms missed anything. Or if there's anything of scientific interest alone, really," she added, recalling one of the boarding school's teachers.

Jaeil said, "Yes, sir. I'll add it to the analyses." Tr'Dreth just shrugged, and their comments turned back to managing the data they'd received.

"And done," Jaeil finally said. "Transmitting mail. Satellite acknowledging... There, it's boosting everything back home. Will there be anything else sent, sir?"

"Not from me, and I was not told to expect a reply," Arrhae said.

"Sending the signal to re-cloak, then, and transferring sensors to Dreth." She finished tapping at the console and stood. "I'll go to the nest to make sure the analyses are running properly."

"Nest?" Arrhae asked.

Tr'Dreth said, "The sensor-access, sir."

"Ah," she said, enlightened, and moved out of the way so Jaeil could use the ladder up to that level while tr'Dreth seated himself at the position.

"Are you going to take over helm?" tr'Ronu said, impatiently.

"Cloak and back us off first," Arrhae said. "I don't want to veer into the satellite if the program glitches at the wrong moment." Or have an "accidental" bump against the console do the same thing, while she was theoretically supposed to be controlling the ship.

"We're not that close," tr'Ronu muttered, but did as she ordered. "There. That far enough?"

"Sufficient," she replied, and stepped over to behind the seat.

He vacated it quickly, perhaps recalling why there was an uneven, rounded notch in his military haircut. "Yours, then."

"Taking the helm," she said, officially, and slid into the chair. "Setting course for the next satellite."

As Arrhae slid the console's mutable panels into her preferred configuration, a conveniently placed blank spot reflected tr'Ronu's departure out the door-hatch.

Another spot gave her some sense of tr'Dreth at his station, and the ceiling-hatch was reflected in a third. It was a small satisfaction to have arranged her console configuration so tidily, but then, this was a small ship.

 _But mine,_ she thought and ran one hand possessively along the arch of the console. Terrible ship, terrible crew, and light-years away from ch'Rihan and the city of Ra'tleihfi. Light-years away from her guardian.

But, alas, light-years were only days at warp. A spy-ship could stay in space for a longer time than one might suspect for so tiny a craft, but eventually maintenance needs would drive him back to civilization.

There would be no plausible way she could plead "commander's duty" and stay on _6-5-3_ while he was docked back home. Her place as bodyguard would be at her guardian's back. In his house. For so long as the ship had no duties, and she could only hope that Director Hakeev wanted her in possession of the ship for more reasons than a "brief fancy" to cover the movement of the prior commander to somewhere more advantageous to the Director's plans.

Certainly any disobedience would see her removed from command. And even if she'd won the hearts of the entire crew, none of them were of sufficient import to have Fleet insist on her return. Further, _6-5-3_ was a spy-ship, not a Warbird whose crew could claim they needed morale to fight.

But here and now, she held command — and the helm. She set the ship to a careful, lazy spin as he proceeded. Tr'Dreth said nothing, as she'd already established this habit some days ago. What she truly wished was to pause for a bit and attempt "ship-dancing" — testing one's skill and a ship's capabilities in tight, erratic maneuvers — but they had no time for that in the schedule. Not unless they were very swift with the other satellite checks, anyway.

But until she was sure they had that time, all she could do was acclimatize herself to a swirling starfield, and hope to train herself out of the groundside habits of "up" and "down."


	20. Bhæhtir

When, eventually, second shift returned for their second round of primary duties — with tr'Ronu sullen and subdued — Arrhae lingered a moment by the sensor station as Jaeil seated herself. "Did anything come of the anomaly?" she asked.

"No, sir. It's consistent with star-noise profiles." And yet Jaeil sounded dissatisfied.

"Is it consistent with the star-noise that was in the vicinity?" Arrhae asked.

The other woman shot her a look. "Not really, sir. But sometimes stars will hiccup."

Arrhae rubbed her thumb on the ladder-rung she grasped. "I don't want to be chasing _aehallhir_ , but... stay watchful."

"It really is probably nothing, sir, like Dreth said."

"So be at ease if you keep watch and it doesn't recur," Arrhae suggested, and climbed for the second crew level.

She was too restless to do more than get in anyone's way if she went inspecting much of anything. So instead she visited her quarters briefly, slipped some items into places in her uniform-shoulders and boots, and exited to dig out the cleaning supplies she'd found tucked away in various niches and cabinets on the ship.

The general-purpose vacuum didn't suffice for the fast, precise movements she would have rather done, but it at least gave her a different range of motion than the weights in the recreation and exercise area below. And even on a ship, dust and particles would settle into the gray corners of the hallways unless displaced.

She'd gotten the entire upper corridor cleaned and was pondering whether she should go after the lower ones as well when t'Saii came up the central ladder. The engineer clung to the ladder rungs and said, "Sir, _do_ you ever rest?"

"Seven hours of sleep, as the schedule allots," Arrhae said.

"I'm not sure I believe it, sir."

"Come out of the ladder-well. I'm going to get the lower hall. Unless I'd run into you or tr'Dreth?"

"He's hiding in his quarters, last I heard, working on the data analysis from the satellite." T'Saii emerged as bid. "I was heading for coffee before going back to assist Rae. T'Raedheol, I mean. Till she kicks me out again, anyway."

"Mm." Arrhae snapped the vacuum's stiff tube to its backpack-mounted canister and power-source. "I'm going to start giving everyone health scans, I think. You and tr'Dreth will be easy enough to corner, of course, and I can get second shift during the free time at the end of first shift's day. I was thinking I should inconvenience third shift, but I don't know whether to cut short their fastbreak, or ask second shift to cover for someone before or after that meal."

T'Saii blinked, doing the schedule-math. "You're going to cut into your free-time. Of course." She ran her fingers through her hair, drawing attention to the alien ringlets. "Grab Konra first? I can drop in on tr'Ronu and hiss at him more. I know Jaeil won't fuss if you make her stay a little later, for t'Killis."

"And will t'Raedheol hold Engineering a little longer, when I need?" She moved into the ladder's shaft.

"Not like Rae and Tei can do anything till..." Her voice trailed off. She coughed. "T'Tei often takes her free time to correspond with second shift's free time, sir, and makes it up during third shift's assigned free time."

Arrhae reflected that at least the two women were less likely to _also_ turn up pregnant, and said, "D'liir doesn't object to having no assistance?"

"T'Killis helps him, sir. Her father and t'Tei's father are brothers, you see, from a third clan altogether." T'Saii paused. "I'm not helping anyone, am I."

Arrhae added the compiler of the crew reports to her list of people she wanted to skin, for not mentioning the interlocking relationships there. But then, men usually went to their wife's House and clan, if she had one, and their old ties sometimes went unnoticed. Especially a doubled marriage like that. "No, no, it's helping." Helping her understand that spacing t'Tei would leave t'Raedheol distraught and seeking revenge, which would mean being down to two engineers: one terrified and one, at best, torn.

"Um."

Arrhae took a breath that was absolutely not a sigh. "You recommend I talk to Konra first."

"Grab her after her fastbreak. I'll talk to tr'Ronu. More."

"I hope you can persuade him to better manners."

"Elements, so do I, Commander."

"Mm." Arrhae regarded the ladder and glanced down. "Let's see if I break an ankle."

"Sir?"

She didn't answer, but adjusted her grip on the ladder, knees and boots on the outsides, and slid down it. She landed hard enough to sting, but the vacuum's tube didn't come loose, and her legs didn't indicate any lasting harm. Arrhae smirked up at t'Saii, who peered anxiously down. "I didn't."

The engineer's expression turned to some odd confused look, with her mouth not quite hanging open and not quite smiling. She shook her head. "Good, sir!"

Continuing to smirk, Arrhae gave a wave in the rough direction of the eating room, and went out to vacuum the corridor by the airlock. And, once she was reasonably sure no one was going to appear, make a few adjustments to the sabotaged camera that left it ostensibly still defunct — but with one of _her_ little spying devices there, quite functional. Hopefully even if t'Saii and D'liir went back to bug-hunting, they'd overlook the thing because it was embedded in the authorized surveillance, and whoever wanted the camera sabotaged wouldn't notice the sabotage was... altered.

So far, her bridge-microphone hadn't picked up anything of interest. However, if t'Saii was going to tell tr'Ronu to stay on longer so Arrhae could inconvenience Konra, the conversation might be worth hearing.

Arrhae moved on to the crew-side corridor with her vacuum, and wished the task allowed more than the most rudimentary of dueling footwork practice. Further, the ship was so tiny that she'd started on Engineering — t'Raedheol giving her several disbelieving looks — before the time came to ambush third shift. As t'Saii gave her a nod and headed down the hall to the bridge, Arrhae nodded back and ascended to replace the vacuum.


	21. Temdrusae'in Agollhifvir

* * *

With the vacuum stowed behind its panel, the next thing was to dust herself off and lean into the mess hall, smiling. Caught in the midst of getting up to take their duties, the three women of third shift stared back, warily. Arrhae purred, "As I've finished my initial inspection of the ship, I've moved on to health scans for his crew. Konra, I've arranged for tr'Ronu to stay on-duty this shift till I'm done with you. Shouldn't take more than a half-hour. Probably less."

Give her some credit: the angular pilot didn't exchange looks with the other two (who were indeed glancing at each other uneasily). She simply finished putting her tray into the replicator. "Recycle," she told it, then gave Arrhae a fist-to-shoulder salute and head-tilt that implied a bow in the cramped space. "Sir."

With a "come along" wave, Arrhae went to the ladder and down it — _not_ sliding as she had before. She'd need to practice more often in private before she'd be comfortable doing it in front of a hostile audience.

Irritatingly, as soon as Arrhae was clear of the ladder-well, Konra slid down herself. Arrhae pretended not to notice, opened the medbay door, and beckoned the pilot to precede her within. "Lie on the medical bed."

Konra stalked in warily, and sat instead. "Can leave the door open. Sir," she said.

Arrhae shrugged and thumbed the latch to keep the door from sliding closed again. "Lie down so I can activate the scanners. This shouldn't take long."

The other woman swung her feet up. "Like to know what this is about. Sir."

No pronouns, and a hesitation before the honorific, and Arrhae was getting very wary of that speech pattern after hearing it from tr'Ronu whenever he was getting insubordinate instead of just sullen. "Jaeil was unwell when I took command. Nutritional deficits. I want to make sure there's nothing wrong with the replicator patterns that's endemic to the crew."

Konra favored her with a dubious glare just short of what Arrhae would have slapped her for. "I'm always like this, sir. Metabolism."

"So long as you don't expire upon the piloting console, I don't care. But if the replicator is defective, I do care. Lie down."

Finally Konra did so, and Arrhae yanked the sensor-packed top down, fitting it to the side-panel so she could run the scans. Konra stared at the ceiling, with a hormonal profile that bespoke more wariness and concern than she was showing. Her hormonal profile, thankfully, did _not_ include the giveaways that Jaeil's had; Konra's contraceptive implant was aging, but had at least another half-year of sure effectiveness. And though Arrhae had assumed the nutritional scan would be for show only...

"Oh, by the Elements," she muttered, and turned to get a hypo. "Hold still."

"What's that?" Konra demanded, flinching away.

"Getting a blood sample to double-check the readings, just like I did with Jaeil. _She_ held still."

"Jaeil's a broken-legged _hlai'hwy_."

"Who holds still," Arrhae reiterated, pinning Konra's shoulder to the bed with one hand and putting the hypo to her neck so it could bite with its numerous tiny teeth and get sufficient blood for the analysis. Konra hissed, and Arrhae ignored her, pulling the thing away after a moment so she could put its chamber into the appropriate slot for analysis.

The numbers that came back were not so imbalanced as Jaeil's, but were definitely not what Arrhae had expected. She said, "What foods... No, wait, I scanned her earlier. You've been eating from the new replicator patterns?"

"Everyone has. Sir."

Everyone except Arrhae herself, probably, unless the programs she'd brought had also contained updated nutrition bars and nutrient drinks. She hissed quietly to herself, then said, "Well, the Universe has given everyone a reprieve, then. You should probably take a supplement for the next half-tenday, just to be sure." She unlatched the med-bed's scanner from the side-controls and swung them back into their inactive positions. "And your contraceptive should be replaced in a half-year or earlier, if you don't want to worry about _that_ risk."

"You think I'm 'at risk'?!" Konra nearly snapped, going up on one elbow and adding a grudging, "Sir," a moment later.

"Not knowing, not caring." Two could ignore pronouns. "Whole ship can orgy itself to an epic Klingon hell or meditate itself to Vulcanity, so long as duties are performed and no one wakes me up."

Konra rolled off the table. "I'll be on the bridge. Sir."

Arrhae flipped her hand in dismissal, fast, so that Konra would see it before she'd turned and headed out anyway. Stomped out, practically.

She _really_ wished she had more than the one shock collar. The trip would be so much more restful...

But the Universe had not seen fit to provide that. Instead, it had provided a set of replicator programs that had been slowly damaging the crew. She tapped the Medbay intercom. "Bridge, is t'Saii still there? I need to ask her something."

" _She heard. She's on her way. Sir,_ " came t'Killis' monotone reply.

"Thank you," Arrhae said sweetly. "Medbay out."

She'd replicated up a nutrient bar by the time t'Saii got there, and was working on forcing the limited diagnostic programs to try to analyze the nutritional content.

"Commander?" the engineer said.

"Konra had some of the same nutritional issues that Jaeil had." She rolled a hypo across the med-bed. "Give me a blood sample. Then tell me if any of the old programs are still in the upper replicator."

T'Saii pulled down her uniform collar and stuck the hypo against her neck, grimacing at it. As she handed it back, she said, "I saved everything, of course, like you said. Then I uploaded all the new things. Anything that had a duplicate, I told the replicator would be 'old.'"

Arrhae swapped the hypo-canister in, after removing the chunk of nutrient bar she'd been trying to analyze. The medical console was happier to list _that_ data. "And look, there's the same pattern. Jaeil just had it worst." Probably because the pregnancy had begun to demand resources that the food wasn't supplying.

"You're saying all the old food is..."

"Nutritionally insufficient. The question is whether it's the old programs, as I suspect, or the replicator itself. Then the question, either way, becomes whether it's incompetence in design or actual sabotage."

"Sabotage?!"

"Smart Tal Shiar never rule out sabotage." Arrhae slid the bit of food back in and poked at the console buttons. Then she went looking for help-files. " _Fvadt,_ " she swore, finding none. "Fetch me a sensor officer."

"Jaeil?"

"Yes. Thank you."

That didn't take long; soon the buxom woman ventured into the medical closet. "Sir?"

"Konra and t'Saii both have nutritional deficits, though not as badly as you did. I need to see if it's in the nutrient bars, or I'm going to have to eat something besides those..."

"The new fish program is good, sir," Jaeil said, squeezing past Arrhae to poke at the console. "You want a nutritional analysis?"

"Yes."

From her scowl and muttering, the programs weren't behaving nicely for Jaeil, either, but eventually she leaned back from the wall-panel and gestured to it triumphantly. "Nutritional readout, sir!"

Arrhae called up the theoretical nutrient content of the thing and had the files displayed side by side.

They didn't match. Some numbers weren't even close.

Silently, Arrhae brought up the medical records. The deficiencies mapped perfectly.

" _Fvadt,_ " Arrhae said. Jaeil nodded. T'Saii, leaning in over the med-bed, made a noise somewhere between a low whistle and a hiss.

"T'Saii, bring down something relatively portable from the main replicator?" Arrhae said.

"At once, sir," the engineer said grimly.

While she went on that errand, Arrhae replicated up a nutrient pill and handed it to Jaeil. "Analysis?"

The process was faster. The results... "Well, it's better than nothing, sir."

Arrhae shook her head and pulled out her personal tricorder, scanning the pill and remaining nutrient bar for toxins. "No poisons, thank the Elements. Nor heavy metals."

Jaeil was leaning against the tiny counter at the end of the med-closet, both hands clasped protectively over her belly. "If you hadn't..."

"Surely someone would've noticed at their medical checks. Surely people have _been_ noticing, if this isn't recent."

"Fleet doctors don't always mention things. They just give shots and send us on."

And they hadn't noticed that Jaeil's contraceptive implant had expired, either. Or would expire before her next medical check. "Shoddy," Arrhae muttered.

T'Saii returned with a nutrient bar, a mug of coffee, and a small bowl of eggs and fowl meat. The bowl was precisely the right size to fit over the mug's top, so presumably t'Saii had managed to balance them together as she went down the ladder. The bar had probably gotten tucked into her belt. Or down her under-tunic halter.

Arrhae relieved her of the coffee first, and pulled a sample before handing it back. T'Saii sipped from it, watching as Jaeil did another nutrition analysis.

It matched the file's stated profile. So did the egg-and-fowl dish, which developed a pronged fork after analysis — courtesy of t'Saii — and turned into Jaeil's snack.

The nutrient bar, however, had the same deficiencies as the one the Medbay replicator had produced. Arrhae sighed at it and wished she'd thought to arrange an entirely updated set of replicator programs, rather than just what people had asked for. Out loud, she said, "Well, the odds are low that it is a mechanical defect, though I'd like to have one of them checked over soon, t'Saii."

"Can it be this one, sir?"

"Yes. But unless there is some flaw in the device that is being compensated for by newer programs..."

T'Saii asked, "Do you really think it might be sabotage, Commander?"

"I can't rule it out. It doesn't make much sense — Fleet medical should have caught it eventually, and they'd at least compensate for it at checkups. But then, the nutrition profiles should have been caught much earlier, so... I can't rule it out. I suppose it might just be someone cutting corners." She used her tricorder on the bar and part-consumed food and drink, found no toxins, and gnawed at the thing irritably. She'd just have to take extra pills, like Jaeil. "Can you show me how to do that analysis? I'm going to have to check everything now..."

Jaeil did. No one mentioned it was allegedly first shift's free time for the next couple of hours before the sleep cycle. Once Arrhae had the knack of it, she sent the other two women off to their own devices, and continued on herself.

This was certainly going to go in the next report.


	22. Hrouri Laehvalir

* * *

The second satellite was reached at the beginning of fourth shift's second primary duty-period. Or, by a more Arrhae-centric perspective, a bit over two hours into her appointed sleeping duration. Nevertheless, she had dragged herself from her bed in good enough time to be narrow-eyed, not yawning and bleary, as she hung from the bridge's ladder-rungs again and watched the process.

In theory, fourth shift overlapped with first shift sufficiently that Arrhae should have tripped over them during her first secondary-duty period, which coincided with their free time. Or one of them might have come to the bridge during their second secondary-duties. In practice, she'd only ever seen D'liir scuttling about — usually on some task that Arrhae had set for him during his second primary duty-shift and her morning free time (and fastbreak).

She waited as tr'Verih maneuvered into position, dropped cloak, and tr'Aeyn sent the proper code to induce the satellite to drop its cloak as well. Then the download was requested, the satellite responded, and tr'Aeyn said, "Half to three-quarters of an hour, sir. There's a little noise in the area interfering with the signal."

"Jaeil saw something as well," Arrhae commented. "Did she leave any notes?"

"A few, sir." He hesitated, then offered, "It does seem to be a similar profile."

"In the interests of—" Arrhae broke off to smother a yawn behind her hand. "—tired Tal Shiar paranoia, can you try to get a better fix on that 'star noise' without it looking like you're scanning for its source?"

After another hesitation, tr'Aeyn said, "I can try, sir. It's probably nothing."

"It probably is," she agreed. "But wouldn't we all feel stupid if it wasn't."

"Mm. Understood, sir."

"Speaking of chance-caught problems, when third shift comes back on duty, which of you might I acquire for a medical scan? I assume everyone here has nutritional imbalances because of the food replication issues, but I'd like to make sure it's being corrected in everyone as well."

Tr'Verih looked over his shoulder, and both of the men had an air of mentally considering their schedules. Finally, tr'Verih suggested, "Why don't you go back to bed, sir, and you can get the lot of us during our free time?"

Arrhae yawned again and considered the merits of the suggestion. "If anyone's been taking stimulants, they'll still show by shift-end, but all right. I'll be queuing up a message to go out after the satellite's download has finished. Give a quarter-hour for a response, then re-cloak and aim for the next target."

"Yes, sir," tr'Verih said, with tr'Aeyn murmuring the same a heartbeat out of sync.

She climbed back to the upper crew level, reflecting that at least her legs were getting exercise despite the lack of sword-practice, and queued the encrypted report about the replicator's food-programs. She had permitted herself to be appalled, though not scathing, and had included the possibility of a particularly oblique sabotage as well as the more-probable skimped testing and poor programming. She had also requested that, if possible, non-defective programs for nutrition bars, drinks, and supplements be waiting at the next satellite.

With that taken care of, she pulled off her uniform jacket and flopped back into the bed, instructing the ship-computer to set the lights to five percent.

Sadly, even good mental techniques for inducing sleep had not given her more than, perhaps, half an hour before the intercom said, " _Sir, a live transmission for you._ "

She started up from the pillow, ordered the lights on, and wallowed down the bed to the intercom to press its button and say, unthinkingly, "Forward it to my quarters. Thank you."

" _Yes, sir,_ " said the intercom, and the display flicked into life before she'd finished rubbing her eyes to wakefulness.

On the display, her guardian said, " _Arrhae, my dear. Were you asleep?_ " Beside him, a window let golden, late-afternoon sunlight slant into the room; that configuration meant he was at his office, not his quarters.

"I apologize, sir," she said, drawing her fingers through her hair at the place that always tried to get out of order when she slept on it. She dragged herself quickly to a spot nearer to the room's desk, kneeling on her bed. "It's first shift's sleeping period and I had not expected anything but recorded messages in reply." She hadn't expected anything but an acknowledgement of her prior report, if that.

" _Indeed, the review of the ship seemed... sufficient._ " He used _ihlla'hn_ , or _barely_ enough. Arrhae bowed her head fractionally and lowered her gaze at the chastisement as he went on. " _But as the report about the replicators appeared just now, it seemed appropriate to reply more directly._ "

Which meant the ship was being delayed, uncloaked, with a transmission going from the satellite to ch'Rihan. At least it was an encrypted transmission. She hoped tr'Aeyn had the sense to increase scanning with that excuse going on. "Yes, sir. I believe the matter is stable till we return and can update the programs, but it concerns me that it could happen at all." She looked up enough to watch his reaction.

He was as diffident as if it was of no matter whether she'd discovered and reported it or not. " _I'll discuss the matter with Admiral tr'Llhevil. Inform the crew to keep the discovery to themselves. If it is sabotage, we should not reveal we have uncovered it. If mere sloppiness..._ " He leaned back in the viewscreen, enough to make the chair creak audibly. " _We must determine if anyone important would be embarrassed by the attention, even as we ensure it won't happen again._ "

"I understand, sir."

" _A pity the crew found out at all, but it would be hard to keep secrets there._ "

Another chastisement. She lowered her eyes again. "My apologies, sir. I thought it might be a flaw in the replicators, and had them checked."

" _You do seem to be doing your best to be a proper commander, my dear Arrhae,_ " he admitted, leaning forward again to put his elbows on his desk. He was uncomfortably close to the camera, that way, with edge-distortions along the top of his bald head. " _I am optimistic._ "

" _Khlinae rham nnearvha, theirr rham._ " Full and formal, _My thanks to you, my guardian_ , with her fist to her shoulder in salute and her head bowed. Implied praise required all the formality she could muster, despite kneeling on her bed in nothing but her leggings and an undershirt.

" _But since we do not wish to harvest questions, I do not think the requested replicator programs can be sent at this time. You will have to pick them up from Spacedock._ "

"I understand, sir." She understood that he knew she would subsist on nutrient bars and drinks for tendays, in order to have more time for study or sword-practice. The lack of the programs was a small punishment. "The deficiencies can be compensated for till then."

" _Sufficient. Is there anything else I should know?_ "

"Thank you for the shock-collar, sir. It may yet see use." She rued the words as soon as they spilled out of her sleep-mazed mouth; the gratitude for his forethought would not outweigh—

" _You are having trouble keeping order?_ " He leaned back again, and sounded lightly amused.

She kept her own tone level, as she always strove to when he could hear. When anyone with power over her could hear. "I regret that tr'Ronu continues on a path that will cause complications. I believe he had hoped to gain command here. As there is no place on this ship for a brig—" (unless she hung him out the airlock in a suit, which might interfere with the cloaking field) "—the collar may be the only means of controlling him. I am waiting until the rest of the crew are aware of how great my patience has been."

" _It is good fortune you did not kill him on the station. A pity that he is... recalcitrant._ "

"Yes, sir. I apologize."

" _Well, it is your sleep-cycle, and I never keep you from your bed for long._ " He leaned forward, hand moving out of range of the camera to its controls. " _Good night, Arrhae. Dream of pleasant things._ "

"And you, my guardian," she said, inclining her head and saluting him once more. She held the position till the sound and light from the display cut out.

She made sure that her own side of the connection was off, then shuffled back down to the other end of the bed to the intercom. "Bridge, this is T'Solos. The conversation is finished. Cloak and move on."

" _Understood, sir. Bridge out._ "

Arrhae sprawled on the bed again, pillow under her cheek. "Computer, lights to thirty percent." If she woke from ill dreams, she would want to see, clearly, that she was alone in her room.


	23. Ehl'temssuajir Maihiilir

* * *

Arrhae's morning paralleled the last of fourth shift's primary duties. Her first run of primary duties had her and tr'Dreth receiving the bridge from tr'Verih and tr'Aeyn, which went without any special note.

After the other two men had left, tr'Dreth said, "We had a live transmission via the satellite?"

"Yes. My guardian. It was afternoon for him." This at least allowed a lead-in for her instructions. "We're to avoid mentioning the replicator program deficiencies. If it is sabotage, revealing that we know would spook anyone left in position. And if it's incompetence, there's a risk that someone responsible might have powerful friends, who wouldn't react well to a public shaming."

"I'll see to it that everyone knows, sir," tr'Dreth said, and then what little conversation they had for the rest of the shift was entirely related to their duties.

Catching D'liir for a "health inspection" was easy enough, at the beginning of fourth shift's free time and Arrhae's first stint of secondary duties. The engineer was mostly anxious to know if she had found anything to disapprove of in his work; she rather wondered how guilty his conscience was, regarding the gravity loss to her quarters. She told him that she currently knew of no reason to throw him out an airlock, which didn't reassure him as much as she had thought it might; took a blood sample to confirm the nutritional deficiency; told him to supplement and eat from the newer programs; and sent him on his way.

Then she used that sample to match to the scans she'd gotten of Jaeil's pregnancy. The result was... inconclusive tending towards "no," which was probably good, as D'liir was another clanless man, from his records. (The way that his records were so carefully clean of even speculation... She wondered if he'd been an indentured servant or even slave, sold into service to excuse some House from providing its own children to the Fleet during one of the upheavals. If freed by Fleet and not a prior master, he would necessarily have no clan-name...)

Next to be obtained, from the recreational room, was tr'Aeyn, who was just as guarded when on the medical bed as he'd been in her presence any other time. The sensors officer reported on the progress of the various analyses of the satellites' data, held still for the blood sampling, and left again without any indication of his real opinions about his commander — or anything else. It made her uneasy. His manner and speech were reserved, so he wasn't attempting to be friendly, but was it fear, hostility, or plain wary disinterest underneath that mask?

At least the genetics revealed in his blood made it very unlikely he was the other one responsible for Jaeil's state. Arrhae would not have liked to have given the woman such news, with someone whose reaction would be so hard to anticipate.

Tr'Verih, interestingly, was loitering near the Medbay door when Arrhae poked her head out to go find him. She lifted her eyebrows and beckoned him in. He paused in the doorway and asked, "Do you want me to leave this open or closed?"

She'd latched it open for the other two — D'liir because he might have panicked more, and tr'Aeyn because unlatching the door would have seemed odd after she'd left it open for D'liir. So she shrugged and waited at the far end of the tiny room. "As you wish. Are you planning to confide secrets, or do you want to make sure you could shout for help?"

Oddly, he twisted up a smile and looked at the latch that held the door open. "No telling either way, I suppose." He lifted a hand, paused, and tapped the latch free before fully entering the room. The door slid shut behind him.

Arrhae quirked her eyebrows again and gestured to the bed. "If you have information to share, I'm listening."

The pilot sat on the edge of the med-bed, watching her oddly... No, not oddly. With the same attention that she watched others, much of the time. No doubt a more open mirror to how she'd watched tr'Aeyn.

No need to be any less baffling than the sensors officer had baffled her. She pressed her lips together to stifle signs of amusement and said, "Lie down while you're thinking about it, then."

He did so. While she was fastening the scanner-top and side-console together around the med-bed, he said, "So when did you decide to do a health check on everyone?"

"Shortly after I finished my check of the non-organic parts of the ship," she said, which wasn't true at all. "After all, I'd inflicted one on Jaeil for being a bit tired in my presence, so why not share it with, oh, third shift? And really, once I started, doing a thorough job on everyone was the only proper way to finish. Hold still while I get the blood sample."

He twitched a bit as the hypo came near, but not enough that she had to chide him for it.

"So it's not an excuse to get someone alone?" he asked as she slotted the hypo's canister in to be scanned.

She snorted. "Elements, why would I want to do that?"

"Prior commander did."

And was the probable father to Jaeil's unlucky child, from all rumor. Yet, apparently, there was some hope for someone else, and so Arrhae would have to rule out everyone on the ship before making plans to get at erei'Riov tr'Hoiim's medical records. "Not interested."

He craned his neck at her. She glanced down at him, then tapped the console. "Same nutritional issues as everyone else. Take one of the supplement pills, and try to eat from the newer programs. Keep quiet about the bad programs; they're being looked into and we don't want to embarrass anyone whose patron got them a job their programming couldn't support." She moved to open the med-bed and free him.

Tr'Verih sat up, but didn't slide down immediately. "Ah..."

Arrhae set her hands on her hips — one near her weapon, of course — and looked at him. "Yes?"

He opened his mouth to say something, then shut it again. "I'm sorry, sir. It's not actually important."

"If you have some information, I'd rather be the one to decide if it's important," she told him.

"It was an impertinent question," he said firmly. "I ask the commander's indulgence in pretending I never thought it."

The realization was a bit like some drinks: ignorable in the mouth, but a harshness in the throat and belly once swallowed. Or, in this case, a wry amusement. "Oh." She blinked at him, and snorted. "No, the medical checks are not an excuse to privately proposition _anyone_ on the crew, man _or_ woman."

Strangely, tr'Verih's expression got even more perplexed at that, and might even have incorporated some self-aimed wryness of his own. "Understood, sir." He got down and left, though with glances over his shoulder.

As the door slid closed, Arrhae turned back to the console. Her eyebrows went back up and she double-checked the results of the second analysis of the pilot's blood. But the answer was the same: Against all odds, tr'Verih's genetics were a nearly perfect match.

_Well, at least it's almost certainly not tr'Ronu,_ she thought. Thank the Universe for small favors.


	24. Faehhtir Lacendtir Flaeon Faehhtir

* * *

Just because the secret reason for the "health checks" had been fulfilled (probably) didn't mean Arrhae wanted to leave the process unfinished. The next set of secondary duties enabled her to claim t'Saii for a scan as well as the blood test, which provoked an argument with the med-bed over proper hormone balances in general: evaluating a quarter-human apparently taxed the programs overmuch. Arrhae finally proclaimed, "The scans think you are most likely an incompetently-modified Andorian spy, but since the loss of antennae tends to leave that species caught in permanent vertigo, by all accounts, I am disinclined to believe it."

"I think Grandmother would have something to say if she heard that one, Commander."

Arrhae unlatched the med-bed to free her. "Considering that Turkanan humans are in the Fleet, and some Rihannsu also make their homes on Turkana, the programs will need updating anyway, sooner or later. Familiarity begets... begetting."

T'Saii snickered. "So when will the programs stop noticing? If I had a child...?"

Arrhae shrugged. "It's wondrous enough that copper and iron blood can interbreed at all, especially without intense genetic modifications in a laboratory. The inheritance of traits is ill-understood in any of the texts I've read. Perhaps eighth-human would satisfy the programs. Perhaps sixtheenth. Perhaps you'd take some Turkanan mate and produce less convenient fractions, thus confounding the med-beds for more generations."

That made the engineer actually laugh. "Mother would have a fit. Grandmother would probably encourage me. She has things to say about humans."

"No doubt unfit for my Tal Shiar ears," Arrhae said. "Is tr'Dreth around?"

"Back in his quarters, sir. You'll probably have to bang on the door to get his attention."

"Best I leave him to the analyses, I suppose. I'll cut into his free time later." She stretched out her arms and rolled her shoulders. "There's a maintenance cycle scheduled for half of the sensor array; I'll take that."

T'Saii bit her lower lip. "Bang on the nest-hatch ahead of time, Commander. Just in case."

Arrhae considered the amount of space in the sensor-access, with the stair-hatch closed, and supposed if two people of small and slim stature were going to be extremely cuddly anyway... "Does this sort of thing happen on _every_ observational craft?" she asked in exasperation.

The engineer ran a hand through her ringlets. "Well, we do get sent out for weeks and months at a time, sir..."

After a moment of pained silence, Arrhae said, "...go... do things," flipping a hand in the other woman's direction. _Elements, the admiral didn't have to carefully pick the ship to drive me to distraction? He could have assigned me **any** observational craft, to similar effect?_ The thought was wretched.

Kindly, t'Saii didn't make any further comments beyond a "yes, sir" as she left, mock-cringing. Arrhae allowed herself a few moments to rest her head against the wall and swear incoherently at being on a spacefaring version of a dramatical production, only with less political drama and more bedroom farce.

When she had collected herself, the Universe showed small mercies: no one was in the "sensor-nest" and she was able to work in peace, running the calibration programs on the half of the sensors that were slated for it. And when she poked her head down the hatch to the bridge, Jaeil reported nothing had gone wrong on her end, either.

Then it was time to dodge third shift's starting their primary duties while second shift moved to secondary ones, and first shift was officially on free time. Arrhae stood in the open doorway of her quarters and waited for people to stop moving around — and to make sure tr'Ronu didn't return — before she stepped out and set her palm to the door-chime for first shift's room.

After a perfectly plausible moment, not a guilty delay at all, tr'Dreth slid open the door. "Ah, sir?"

"Health check, if you've the time," she said breezily.

He hesitated, perhaps trying to decide if there was any way he could say _but it's my free time_ to the ship's commanding officer. Eventually he determined the "request" was a requirement and said, "A moment to shut down my computer, sir."

She waved him to it, and he went to the makeshift desk under his bunk and both closed down some brightly colored holographic display and secured the computer itself to the crate. Then he followed Arrhae down the ladder to Medbay and laid himself down as he was bid.

By this time, Arrhae was familiar enough with the medical programs that she could get a perfectly good scan in under ten minutes. Then a blood sample. Then... She gave the perfectly normal readouts a long, disbelieving look, then turned her head to gaze down at tr'Dreth.

He swallowed, but didn't squirm. "The doctor at the last check said I had a nutritional deficit. She didn't mention that everyone on the ship had it! I don't know if she even saw more than one of us — Fleet runs the check-ups concurrently when it can, so a ship can get back on duty more quickly. But the shot didn't seem to help as much as it should have when I ran the scan program on myself, here, so..." He tried to gesture and bumped into the scanner that arched over the med-bed. "There are supplements for children, that taste like candy..."

Gently, in a tone of voice that he probably didn't know was dangerous, she said, "Why didn't you tell me sooner?"

Aware of her mood or not, he was certainly cognizant that he was flat on his back, underneath the scanner arch of a medical bed. His hands bumped into it again. "I thought you were just angry at third shift, sir."

Still soft, she told him, "If I were going to get further revenge on third shift at this time, a quarter-hour exam that they don't even have to disrobe for... would not be my choice, tr'Dreth."

"I... You're right, sir."

Once again, the explanation was... plausible. More plausible than third shift's explanation had been for the "gravity malfunction." Arrhae still felt more than a little betrayed. But wasn't that the way of things? The other side of those theater plays and vid-series and trashy novels: when politics or revenge came into matters, there would be betrayals. Certainly nothing in her training belied those lessons of the species. Loyalty was to the strong, however they demonstrated it.

"...sir?"

Silently, she moved to unlatch the med-bed scanner and return it to its resting position. As he pushed himself up, she said, "Don't withhold information from me in the future, tr'Dreth. I don't like surprises. I especially don't like them when a simple, 'I have something to tell you, sir,' would have sufficed."

"Yes, sir," he said.

"Dismissed."

He left. Arrhae stayed in the Medbay a while longer, leaning against the wall and rebalancing her list of crew allegiances. Idly, she ran his blood for the genetic match, and got the expected negative result.

Eventually, she too departed; there were copied files from the crew on her personal computer, and it was probably time to study them intensely and figure out what those files said about the people who viewed them. For after all, she would likely need to get that shock-collar onto tr'Ronu — perhaps even as an example to the others — and doing so would be difficult. She didn't think he would easily follow her to the Medbay where she could deliver a hypo of sedative instead of taking a blood sample. Which meant she would require him to be restrained, or require someone else to snap the collar around his neck.

Which meant she had to know both who would obey her, and whom he would not retaliate against.

So. Time to start researching what might secure loyalty.

At least it was something she could do in a solitary room, back to one wall and feet on the other as she sat on her bed.


	25. Erhiuri

* * *

It was the next day, and into her alleged "free time," when they reached the third satellite. That meant it was third shift's time on the bridge.

Third shift — or at least the two-thirds of it that comprised Konra and t'Killis — most definitely did not like Arrhae lurking on the ladder-rungs to the crew section. Arrhae, comprising only herself (though arguably a representative of the Tal Shiar), didn't give their preferences any heed.

"Enabling station-keeping," Konra said, after moving the ship into position. Then, " _Fvadt,_ that was fast!" Her hands moved hastily on the console. "We're good."

"The station-keeping glitch?" Arrhae asked, nearly unnecessarily.

Konra's head twitched with the effort of _not_ looking over her shoulder. "Yes. Sir."

At least that was wary-sullen instead of working herself up to insubordinate, as tr'Ronu always did. Arrhae said, "T'Killis, did the monitoring program get an image of the system when the glitch happened?"

"Checking," the sensors officer said. "Looks like. Shall I send a copy to your computer?"

"Yes. Thank you."

Her fingers moved on the console. "Done. Initiating download from the satellite now."

Arrhae waited on that with patient silence. Eventually, t'Killis remembered to say, "The computers estimate nearly an hour before it completes."

"All right. Do _you_ see any 'star noise' in the area?"

"What," t'Killis said flatly.

"Jaeil noticed something odd and tr'Aeyn said there was some localized 'noise in the area' that was slowing the transmission, on the next one. I'm curious to know if it's something in the sensors, or something in the region."

From the helm, Konra said, "Jaeil jumps at shadows."

"And tr'Aeyn didn't have interference in the transmission?" Arrhae said, trying to remain diffident.

T'Killis said, "The sensors get out of calibration and they start developing noise. It was probably just that."

"Well, since I calibrated half the sensors recently, you should be able to tell if the other half are producing that 'noise' and then we'll have solved the mystery, won't we," Arrhae said, also dropping any pretense of it being a question.

"But it's point...less—" T'Killis broke off as Arrhae stared her down. "Yes, sir. I'll scan for anything fitting the profile."

"Forward the results to my computer as well. I'll want to look them over. Tal Shiar do, after all, have an interest in... sensors."

"Yes, sir," t'Killis mumbled sulkily.

Arrhae weighed the likely results of lingering and being annoying, and found them insufficiently productive for the discomfort of her perch. "When we've got the data, cloak everything up again and set course for the next one on the list."

They grumbled their affirmative responses, with the grudging "sir" appended as a near afterthought, and Arrhae climbed back to the level of her quarters.

Once there, she dug out an earpiece — despite knowing that she would only become more irritated — and tapped into the microphone she'd planted on the bridge.

As expected, there was a quiet flood of invective aimed in her direction. Most of it was from t'Killis, with Konra grunting agreement. The sensors officer wound down with, " _I should just sample a few minutes and loop it and send **that** for her **aehallh** -chasing foolishness!_"

" _She runs it by one of the others, and they'll catch it, 'Lis,_ " Konra warned.

" _Jaeil'd keep her mouth shut. She knows better._ "

" _Aeyn might not, if he didn't think about it ahead of time. Dreth would point it out to get favor._ "

Arrhae mouthed "oh would he?" to herself, and set herself to stretching exercises; if she let herself lose flexibility on this trip, she would be disgusted. But it was better to work up to a full heel upon the wall above her, with forehead to knee. Strain something, and it would be unpleasant indeed to get down to the Medbay closet.

T'Killis spent a few more moments trying to convince herself — and Konra — that they could warn the other sensor officers against betraying her petty disobedience until the pilot finally said, " _Elements, 'Lis, you're spending more time trying to shore up a mud wall than it'd take to slap down a few bricks. Do the scans and stop plotting to get Dreth on your side. You know he's only out for himself. He won't anger the **hnoiyika** while he thinks she might yet advantage him._"

" _Surprised he hasn't oozed himself into her quarters already._ "

" _Maybe she doesn't have a sweet tooth._ "

Both women snickered nastily at that. In her quarters, Arrhae rolled her eyes and permitted herself an exasperated sigh.

The rest of the conversation lagged, as Konra insisted t'Killis finish the scan before they returned to gossiping.

Arrhae made sure to save the conversation to the best-encrypted part of her computer, and also — when the scan-data finally appeared — to send that scan-data to the other sensor officers. For comment. After all, it was an obvious enough action for Konra to think of it, and the results would tell Arrhae how accurate t'Killis and Konra were about their crewmates.


	26. Daetrar Ih'ithiolaefaur

* * *

As it happened, the requested results were... interesting. Allowing for the timing of everyone's shifts for waking and having a moment to go over the scans: tr'Aeyn suggested another round of diagnostics for the sensors; tr'Dreth hinted in a roundabout way, during their shared shift, that t'Killis might have skimped on doing a thorough scan; and Jaeil requested another "medical check" during Arrhae's free time.

Once in the Medbay closet with the door closed, the sensors officer wrung her hands, begged Arrhae not to let anyone know she'd spoken, and gave a whispering denouncement of t'Killis as lazy and sloppy, having looped two half-hour scans together rather than taking as much as she could get while still uncloaked and being honest about it — and not scanned enough of the bands for Jaeil herself to pick out any abnormalities from what had been recorded, either.

Arrhae had, therefore, nodded, thanked her, promised not to breathe a word of the matter to anyone, and then said, "I've not yet scanned tr'Ronu."

Jaeil bit her lip and looked concerned, continuing to wring her hands silently.

"Likely don't need to, though," Arrhae added, and hid her consternation when Jaeil merely looked to her like the hlai she'd been compared to by the others. Firmly shoving her thought of _How many people on this ship **did** you sleep with?!_ into the box of Does Not Matter, Arrhae said, "I'll still want to compare the others, just in case, and make another scan of you to ensure the data on the genetics is accurate... But tr'Verih's match is excellent."

Jaeil took a deep breath, let it out, and then another, hands clasped in front of her mouth. Her expression was... hard to read.

"Is that good or bad?" Arrhae asked.

"It— it's good! I think. I mean, it should be good!"

"Do you need me to arrange your schedules so you can talk to him?"

Briefly, Jaeil stuffed her knuckles into her mouth in anxious thought. "I... I don't know!" She looked up at Arrhae. "I can't tell him yet! What if there's some defect in the child? What if I damaged it, from the drinking, before I knew? I might yet lose it anyway. If I talked to him and then it was all for nothing..." Her clenched-together hands went back over her lips, but she continued to gaze helplessly at Arrhae.

 _This is just a logistical problem,_ Arrhae told herself. She took a steadying breath of her own and said, "Let me think a moment."

For all her hlai-witted anxiousness, Jaeil at least was able to be silent and patient. Arrhae finally said, "We'll be returning to the Spacedock soon enough. They'll have better scanners, and better-trained people to work them. They can tell you if there's any genetic flaw, or some gene expressing badly enough to terminate, or if you're like to lose it anyway. You and t'Saii should go together, and verify the matter. I'll send a datastick with tr'Verih's genetic data on it, anonymized, and instructions that they double-check the match. Discreetly."

Surely the expression on Jaeil's face was that of a hlai for its parent. In a tiny voice, nigh a whimper, she said, "Thank you, sir. Thank you."

"Thank you for telling me the flaws in the scan. I'd suspected the loop, but I've not quite enough training to be sure that she'd skimped on the bands as well." Arrhae sighed. "I'll not call her on this one, I think. It probably is just shadows."

"I'll make sure to run another diagnostic and calibration cycle on the sensors, Commander. If there is something stalking us, I'll catch it," she said firmly.

The sudden resolve amused Arrhae, but she managed to quash the smile to something approving instead. "It would set my paranoid nerves at ease," she admitted. "So I'll not keep you from your duties any longer."

"Yes, Commander," Jaeil said, sliding off the med-bed. But she paused before opening the door. "Um..."

"Yes?"

Another pause, then she said, "Nothing, sir. Sorry, sir," and fled.

Arrhae spent a moment trying to figure out what _Jaeil_ might have wanted to know and thought better of, before deciding that mystery also went into the mental bin of Does Not Matter.


	27. Mos'hnaithuri na Thrai

* * *

The next three satellites followed the same pattern. Arrhae arranged to be awake for them all, and sent back her exceedingly boring reports — which got no response saved terse notes of "acknowledged." That suited her quite well.

She also managed to corner and examine the rest of third shift. That let her drop a few hints to t'Killis about finding the loop and preferring an honest amount of data rather than a padded one. With t'Tei (whose actual hands and skill were the likely culprit for the gravity prank), she was only clipped and cool — and from the scans, that unsettled the engineer greatly, which also suited Arrhae quite well.

What suited her less well was tr'Ronu. She'd been able to tell when t'Saii had warned him against antagonizing their commander — he'd become a more subdued sullen — but that had lasted approximately one and a half ship-days. Then, after exchanging complaints about Arrhae with third shift, during a shift-change, he'd apparently decided he had support after all, and returned to... testing her with an insulting tone and snide "Enarrain" address, at every shift-change between them on the bridge.

It took her another ship-day to arrange matters to her satisfaction.

Then, at the next transfer of initial primary duties, from first shift to second, she didn't stand, but instead swiveled the chair as far as it would go, to face him, and said, "Tr'Ronu, it strikes me that I have been remiss."

"Surely not, Enarrain," he replied, with at least some wariness to adulterate his contempt.

"Oh, quite. I've managed to do a health check on everyone on this ship but you."

He hesitated. "Can this not wait till first shift's free time?"

When her only assistance would be third shift, who unanimously disliked her. "I'm going to be busy with a report then. I've requested that tr'Verih come back on-shift briefly."

Only slightly off-cue, the fourth shift's pilot came down the rungs from the upper crew floor. He maneuvered around tr'Dreth, who had lingered beside the chair after Jaeil took the station, and managed a strained, "It's fine, sir. Shouldn't take long. No trouble at all."

Arrhae noted that "sir" without reaction, merely standing so that tr'Verih could take the seat. "So it's all settled," she said pleasantly. "Do lead the way, tr'Ronu."

Tr'Ronu paused again, not moving. "No. This smells of offal, no matter what perfume you put on it."

_If I draw my pistol, I will have to shoot him._ She said, "Perhaps your nose needs a medical check. Go to Medbay."

"You don't out-rank me," he growled, using the _you_ of equals. "I'm _senior_ enarrain."

"You may lodge your complaint with Admiral tr'Llhevil. But until I am relieved of command, I _do_ command this ship. Go to Medbay, _Enarrain_ ," she said, the last word a snarl as contemptuous as any of his had been.

"You—" he snarled, still with the pronoun of equals, and reached for her.

She eeled between the piloting console and the forward display, ducking her head where the ceiling sloped down, her hand falling to her pistol. Tr'Ronu started to follow her.

Tr'Verih grabbed the other pilot's forearm. "Don't do it, Roh," he said. "There's nowhere that can go but mutiny. You know D'liir can't withstand an inquest."

"Vir—" he replied, with what was apparently tr'Verih's nickname.

From the hallway-hatch behind him, tr'Aeyn said, "Vir's right, tr'Ronu. You do this, and at the _least_ , the rest of us will be bad-luck crew for losing a commander."

Jaeil and tr'Dreth were silent; Arrhae didn't have space to glance at them. She wondered if "rest of us" meant tr'Ronu would suffer Fleet justice for mutiny, or if the man's patron had enough pull to cover the matter in his record.

Tr'Ronu was silent, glowering murderously, but restrained by tr'Verih's hand on his arm. The fourth shift pilot said, "It's just a scan and a blood sample and you get told the same as everyone else: take a supplement and eat the better food."

Arrhae clenched her teeth shut on a chiding comparison to a child, balking at going to a healer. Instead, low and firm, she said, "Go. To. Medbay. _Enarrain._ " She cursed her temper for that last word, but silently.

Another moment, and tr'Ronu yanked his arm from tr'Verih's grasp and took a half-step back. "Sir," he bit out, then turned — with tr'Aeyn falling back — and headed off the bridge.

Arrhae followed, cautiously staying far enough away to be out of range if the man turned and grabbed for her. Just before leaving the bridge herself, she said, not looking back, "Thank you." Then she left them to talk amongst themselves if they wished; her microphone would record any conversation.

Tr'Aeyn had backed down the corridor, and tr'Ronu turned to slide past the ladder to get to the lower crew deck, and Medbay. Arrhae gave the sensors officer a grave nod, received a grimacing attempt at a smile and a nod in return, and continued on. (She did note that tr'Aeyn was usually more impassive than this, and thus was likely quite disturbed.)

T'Saii was standing beside the Medbay door, shoulders hunched, giving tr'Ronu a look that was somewhere between apologetic and accusing.

"Go in," Arrhae ordered, "and lie down. Arms at your sides."

If he'd had the reputed mental abilities of Vulcans, likely she would have been blasted into a mindless husk, merely from his glance over his shoulder. But he was no hidden Alliance agent, and her surge of tension was only for whether she could gut-wound him without killing him. Or perhaps a lung-shot would do better; an air-leaking wound was the Universe's way of saying _Sit down and shut up_ , after all.

Fortunately, having come this far, he apparently realized that it was true: Attacking her would mean he'd need to kill her, and that was mutiny. Further, a mutiny that fourth shift, at the least, would neither countenance nor cover for. Trying to eliminate all of _them_... Even if successful in doing so without damaging the ship so much that it imploded into its captive singularity, the explanation for why a quarter (or more) of the crew were gone would be... strained.

And so, caught between two untenable choices, tr'Ronu picked the one least noxious, and obeyed her.

"T'Saii," Arrhae said, "please set up the medical bed's scanner." Because she wasn't going into that closet until tr'Ronu was more restrained.

The engineer did so, probably mouthing some variation of _sorry_ at tr'Ronu with her head turned slightly away from the doorway. Or perhaps giving him accusing glares, equally masked. Maybe even both.

Then t'Saii backed out, and Arrhae entered the room, keeping alert for attempts to kick her. Tr'Ronu didn't, fortunately for him, as him being actually _in_ the Medbay reduced her already-low reluctance to wound him.

She stood in front of the "arm" of the med-bed, with its console, performed the scan, and took up the hypospray from the counter. She pressed it to his neck.

He went limp, and Arrhae ejected the mostly-empty canister of sedative to be recycled in the replicator. "T'Saii?" she asked, trying to keep giddiness from her voice and trembling from her hands.

The engineer poked her head around the corner. "Yes, sir?"

"Watch over him till I get back, would you?"

"Yes, sir," she said, a bit unhappily, but promptly.

It was a short trip to her quarters, where she unlocked the correct box, took what she wanted from it, re-locked it, and returned. Tr'Ronu was still unconscious. Arrhae shooed t'Saii out, for if the engineer didn't want to witness what would follow, equally Arrhae didn't want anyone critiquing her. Her hands were still clumsy with the release of tension as she picked open the fasteners at the top of tr'Ronu's uniform, folded down the uniform collar, and fumbled the shock-collar around his neck.

If she'd had to do this while he was awake, and presumably resisting, she would have had to slit his uniform down the back with a knife.

It didn't take as long to secure the thing as her mind told her, with seconds whispering past like breaths or fluttering nei'rrh heartbeats.

The other component to the collar was a thin bracelet, easily hidden under a long sleeve – even those that weren't as capacious as historical uniforms had once had. She used a combination of voice commands and fingerprint-sensitive touches to set the timer for three and a half hours. Lights blinked reassuringly on both the bracelet and collar, and she tucked both their uniforms back into order as best she could. The shock-collar meant the top two fasteners of tr'Ronu's tunic didn't want to close, though it only showed as a dull gleam of metal.

Then she took the usual blood sample, screened out the sedative, and found the expected results: some lingering nutritional effects, and definitely _not_ in any contest for the paternity of Jaeil's child.

Then... She called, "T'Saii?"

The engineer's ringletted head appeared around the corner immediately. "Yes, sir?"

"He should wake up in an hour or two, naturally. I am inclined to cover his shift myself, rather than inflict a stimulant on him."

"You want someone to sit with him till he wakes, Commander?"

"Not at the expense of the ship, but otherwise yes."

"Let me see if tr'Aeyn's available, sir." T'Saii darted off before even receiving thanks.

It was interesting that she hadn't suggested tr'Dreth, but then, fourth shift was in their free time, and first shift was supposed to be attending to secondary duties — and there were _usually_ enough secondary duties that no one was reduced to polishing metaphoric hlai'hwy scales to look busy.


	28. Temnei

* * *

T'Saii returned quickly, tr'Aeyn in tow. Arrhae deployed one of the Medbay's three seats — normally folded into the wall — and exited the narrow space. "I appreciate fourth shift's assistance," she said quietly, which was true. She'd approached only tr'Verih for this, being too uneasy with tr'Aeyn's ability to conceal his reactions; the pilot had vouched for the rest of fourth shift.

"Commander," he said in acknowledgement, and that he said that rather than "sir" indicated he knew he'd picked a side. (And, considering who was wearing the shock-collar, probably the winning side.) Then he paused and said, deadpan, "Fourth shift appreciates the commander's restraint and lack of dead bodies."

Her mouth gave a wry twist that was perhaps a distant cousin to a smile. "I may yet endure repercussions for that lack of dead bodies."

"From him?" tr'Aeyn chin-pointed at the unconscious pilot.

Arrhae's expression was growing more unrelated to a smile by the moment. "From my superiors. We are supposed to command... more firmly than this. It will hopefully be attributed to my youth, and not inherent flaws of squeamishness or cowardice." After all, she would probably have to _hide_ that Director Hakeev had wanted tr'Ronu alive, or pass it on in terse comments that would only make it to one other person's ears at a time.

She couldn't read tr'Aeyn's expression, and reminded herself not to see understanding in that level gaze. Then tr'Aeyn sat himself down. "Understood, Commander."

With a nod to him, she left for the bridge, relieved tr'Verih, and — when he asked — mentioned tr'Aeyn was in the Medbay.

Once the other pilot was gone, Arrhae asked over her shoulder, "And is all well with you, Jaeil?"

"Yes, sir. And you?"

"I do hope so." She squeezed her left hand into a fist, the better to feel the snug bracelet against her skin, and changed the subject: "Have you found any more of those star-noise irregularities?"

"I've mostly been analyzing the data from when we've been uncloaked, Commander. I _think_ I can now detect probable events during cloak, but I've less confidence in those results."

"Is it more than just star noise, then?"

"That's... a hard question, sir."

"We've got a full shift, if answering it won't distract you overmuch."

"Mm. I think it's star noise, yes, but it's _uncharacteristic_ star noise. I've traced each spike back to a star, but not all of them should be making those precise noises, based on past astrometric observations."

Something was nibbling at Arrhae's mind. Something... historical. "Is it following us? Or is that just my paranoia?" She glanced over her shoulder.

Jaeil bit at her lip. "Maybe, sir? It's not precisely _following_ us, but... Following the observational satellites? Sort of?"

"It's happening within range of the satellites?"

"Yes. The stars causing it are all within a certain range of the satellites. If it were just something natural, or not related to the position of the sensors, then there should be fainter signals, too." Jaeil swiveled in her seat and used the back console to display an abbreviated bell-curve. She pointed. "See? It stops _here_ and _here_. There's no signals that are stronger than this, and none weaker than this here."

Thoughtfully, Arrhae said, "And... is any of this something that the satellites would priority-report?"

Jaeil blanked the display and swung back around. "No, Commander. It's just star noise, after all."

"And we've been sent out here to get low-priority data and bring it back like a pet playing fetch." Arrhae swiveled her own chair back and forth a moment. "If t'Killis is still insisting it's nothing but shadows, humor her. Tell her she's right. It's just the Tal Shiar creature jumping at shadows."

"Ah, yes, Commander. If you say so."

"If spotting it will add to our credit, then we can admit to it. If we aren't supposed to notice it, best not to mention the matter any further." For perhaps Jaeil was clanless and often weak. She was still, for reasons Arrhae didn't understand, loyal. There was no reason to waste that by drawing unwelcome attention to her.

Sometimes, being known as too clever was unwelcome attention in itself. Until Jaeil had at least some clan's protection...

Arrhae realized she was nigh matchmaking, and shook her head at herself. "Encrypt the data about the star noise, and especially your analysis of it. Even if Admiral tr'Llhevil or the Director will appreciate it... they will appreciate that it was kept discreet even more."

"Yes, Commander," Jaeil said, concerned but steadier than she often was. Perhaps from having guidance, and not being left to her own hlai-nervous judgment.

Arrhae had the annoying feeling that, all things considered, her guardian would rather she had secured the loyalty of tr'Ronu and third shift.

But hopefully, now, she had secured the _obedience_ of tr'Ronu — and she didn't need to admit that she had only the one collar, so that might subdue third shift a bit. A cheering thought.


	29. Anaesu

* * *

It was very nearly back to first shift's turn at primary duties when tr'Ronu finally awoke. Naturally, he came storming to the bridge, shouting at tr'Aeyn enough that Arrhae had quite sufficient time to turn her chair to face the hallway's hatch. Her hands, folded over her ribs, hid that she had her finger on the collar's controlling bracelet.

Tr'Ronu opened the hatch and snarled, "Treacherous _ri'yika_! Ill-born _kllhe_ -licking—"

She pressed down on the bracelet's smallest stud and tr'Ronu's voice cut out. He clutched at the back of his neck, from which presumably a fiery pain was spreading down his spine and up into his skull, and managed another step onto the bridge.

There were several ways to trigger the bracelet, but the small buttons along its edge were the easiest. Arrhae slid from the smallest to the next one up, and tr'Ronu dropped to his knees, teeth bared and clenched on any further outbursts.

It was entirely gratifying, and only her concern for Jaeil's good opinion of her — and possibly tr'Aeyn's, for he had appeared in the hatchway — kept her from enjoying the situation for several more seconds.

But tr'Ronu was probably sufficiently disabled that anything further would be pure sadism, not fit for the other crew's eyes. Arrhae released the buttons.

Tr'Ronu crumpled further, one hand catching himself before he hit the deck with his nose, and the other still clenched behind his neck. "You—" he said, but with the _you_ of equals.

She touched the smallest button again, briefly, and watched him jerk with the neural stimulation. "Try again," she said, softly, over his harsh panting. The other two crew were silent.

" _Ri'yika_ ," he hissed.

Though she supposed it wasn't far off the truth, she used the next-largest button, for a full five seconds. "Try again," she repeated.

"C-can't. Even. Kill..."

No pronouns or honorifics, but she chose to overlook that for now. "I've been asked to spare your life," she said, without saying who had done so. "But after your near-mutiny, I fail to see what my options were."

"You—" It was the wrong _you_ again and she tapped the second button as a reminder. He choked on a cry, then continued, "—had this planned from the start!"

"Did you think me a fool, blind to your behavior, _Enarrain_? I cannot command a ship if I am afraid to challenge a member of _my crew_. It was this, or kill you. If you would prefer death, you may walk yourself out the airlock whenever you are not on-duty."

"Y—" _Still_ the wrong pronoun and she pressed the second button a bit longer, drawing a whine from him. When she released it, he drew breath and finished, "Must sleep sometime!"

"That's why there's a countdown timer," she said, reasonably. "And while I am explaining the device, I shall note that there are more than two settings. There are five, plus two more that are less easy to access. Attempting to remove the collar will activate the highest level, instantly. There is a strong chance the neurological shock would be fatal. If the timer runs out without being reset, it will start at the first level and progress up to the seventh over time."

Tr'Ronu glared, silent and raging, still with one hand trying to clutch at the collar and the other breaking fingernails against the decking.

"Go lie down," she said, with the beautiful inner calm of possessing the collar's control. "I'll cover your next shift, this ship-day."

He started to bare his teeth, and she interrupted. "Go. You are keeping tr'Aeyn awake now. And if you think I have not already activated a countdown timer, you are very much mistaken. Go to your quarters, with whatever dignity you can retrieve, and recuperate."

Tr'Dreth appeared then, sliding past tr'Aeyn, and bent to get a hand under tr'Ronu's arm. The fourth shift sensors officer slithered onto the bridge as well and took tr'Ronu's other arm, still with his unreadable mask in place.

With the other two men helping him, the pilot made it to his feet. Arrhae watched them steer him out the hatch, having to go sideways because of the narrow corridor, then turned back to the piloting. Happily, autopilot had not decided to glitch like the station-keeping program did — Arrhae was still trying to analyze similarities in the ship-state when the glitch had happened — and they were still on course.

Out loud, she said, "I fear tr'Dreth won't be relieving you precisely on time, Jaeil." She tried to add shades of apology to her tone, if not the neutral words.

"They... They'll have to put him back on the medical bed, if he can't climb the ladder, I suppose."

"Pity the gravity plates aren't set to low in the ladder-well by default," Arrhae mused.

"I hear that the gravity used to be controlled by a switch on observational ships like this, for the ladder-well. But, er..."

"Switches can lead to broken legs?"

"Or heads. And apparently some people would close off the ladder-well's doors and, ah..."

There'd been some zero-grav porn amidst the various things she'd obtained; most of it involved two or more women and no men, and she thus suspected it of being t'Tei's. The background music for the videos had been overall surprisingly good; she'd copied the audio off for her own files, where she could isolate the background track and dispense with theatrical moans.

"Combine that with a switch to turn the gravity back on, and it could be very inconvenient, yes..."

"I think you're right that setting it for a default of lower-grav would be a good compromise, though, sir."

Arrhae glanced over her shoulder. "Jaeil," she said, trying to be gentle without menace, " _you_ are unlikely to ever challenge me to the point of mutiny, and I believe I can easily tolerate mere disagreements, given without insubordination."

The other woman flushed slightly, a bronzy color in her cheeks; or perhaps it was simply more noticeable because she'd gone ashy while watching the confrontation. "I do think it's a good idea, sir! It's the sort of thing that could mean... I'd be able to work longer."

Navigating the ladder with a more direly rounded belly _would_ be a logistical issue, Arrhae realized. While food could be obtained from the Medbay replicator, the inability to reach the second crew deck would be inconvenient.

She turned back to the piloting. "Well, with luck, you won't have to. And if you do, I don't doubt that t'Saii could rig something up. Or t'Tei," she added, with a snort.

If Jaeil's giggle was more a release of nervous tension than agreeing humor... Arrhae had no reason to expose it as such, or complain. Instead, she noted the tapping at her wrist that indicated the countdown was nearly over, and quietly reset it for after her sleep-shift.

Tr'Dreth was only a half-hour late, relieving Jaeil. "He's in our quarters," he said quietly, Arrhae thanked him, and the rest of that shift passed calmly.


	30. Aihkh'llaiss Moskhent'asi

* * *

Konra was uneasy when she came onto the bridge and found Arrhae there. Stretching her stiff back, Arrhae said, "We're on course. Ready to hand over the piloting controls."

"Ah, yes. Where's tr'Ronu?" Konra edged towards the seat.

Arrhae stood and backed away so the other pilot could get to it. "Lying down in his quarters, last I heard. He's not dead unless he did it to himself, if that's what you're asking."

"Something... happened," Konra guessed, gingerly taking the pilot's chair. At the back of the bridge, Jaeil and t'Killis were exchanging places as well.

"If by 'something,' you mean he nearly tried to mutiny, that would be sufficiently accurate," Arrhae agreed, heading for the ladder to the ceiling hatch. "I'm sure you'll hear all about it soon enough."

She could see the look that the third shift pilot and sensors officer shot each other, full of alarm. 

Just before opening the hatch, Arrhae said, "T'Killis, I've decided you were probably right. It's just a bit of sensor-static magnifying the star-noise to look odd. A scan artifact."

Oddly, t'Killis went a shade paler. "T-thank you for telling me, sir. I won't waste any more time on processing for that."

With a nod of acknowledgement, Arrhae opened the hatch, and carefully peered upward before actually putting her head anywhere someone could kick it.

Whether due to belated good sense, tr'Dreth's influence, or simple incapacitation, tr'Ronu was not waiting for her to make herself vulnerable to a boot in her face or a broken neck. Pleased, Arrhae scrambled the rest of the way up the ladder, closed the hatch behind her, and slipped into her quarters — still wary for any surprises that might've gotten in. But again, no one was lying in wait, and a paranoid check of everything revealed no traps.

So she checked the audio from the microphone she'd hidden on the bridge, starting from after she'd left.

Voice wobbling, t'Killis had said, " _What did she mean by that?_ "

" _Just what she said, maybe? Why bother making you chase **hlaiin** that don't even exist?_" Konra said, less unstably.

" _Because she doesn't like us?_ "

" _Maybe she's making peace because tr'Ronu got himself beaten and she doesn't want to have to do it to anyone else, as it'd leave her and Vir pulling twelve and a half-hour shifts._ "

There was a silence long enough that the recording was probably near to real-time, then t'Killis said, " _What do you think she did to him?_ "

Another pause, and Konra growled, " _I think it's time you stopped looking at his legs and ass and started pretending you **never** looked at them, nor stole all his shirts that time, to make him go hunting for them half-naked._"

" _He's never looked at me more than once._ "

" _And that's good for you now. Take the peace offering. Keep your head down._ "

T'Killis grumbled, " _It's still not fair. She **is** too young, and he **does** outrank her._"

" _And now it's caught up with him. Shut up. I don't want to hear that talk. It might stick to me. I don't have to like her. I can hate her all I want, so long as I keep quiet and do my job._ " The pilot let out a breath in something between a sigh and a snort. " _If tr'Ronu's not dead, then I won't hardly have to see the ill-born Tal Shiar pet anyway, and all the better for us both._ "

" _But—_ "

" _Shut up!_ " Konra snapped " _Tell it to your cousin, not me._ "

The recording caught up, skipping swiftly over the lack of conversation, and became a present silence.

Arrhae opened her door — still cautious, always cautious, and slipped down to the eating room.

Jaeil and t'Saii's voices, there, though too low to make anything out. Arrhae stood there for a bit longer, for spying on one's allies was often as important as spying on one's enemies, but couldn't make out more than the occasional word. When she heard tr'Verih's name, she decided the conversation had turned to Jaeil's pregnancy, and Arrhae herself might as well return to her quarters, eat one of her stowed nutrient bars (along with a nutrient pill), and have one of the bulbs of water.

After all, she did have a health report to write, to send when they reached the next satellite.


	31. Temnei, Stev Rihannsu'ri

* * *

For three blissful days — and two more satellites — third shift was cowed, and tr'Ronu... Was sullen. Sullen to the point where Arrhae would have liked to have taught him, if not manners, at least how to mask his emotions to monotone.

But she wanted to pass as... reasonable. Fair. Possibly even lenient to the point where the offender stepped off a cliff so obvious that everyone else could not but admit that her reaction was proportional.

She wanted it direly, far more than she would ever have expected. She had some standing in the eyes of two of the crew, obedient terror from another, and three others were perhaps still able to be influenced. She counted t'Raedheol as lost, due to her alliance with t'Tei, but so long as they took Konra's stance... She would deem it a victory.

She hadn't reported the extent of the gravity "glitch." That there had been an issue, yes. That she had chastised the engineers for permitting it, yes. The details... No. And every day that third shift kept their heads down, she had more cautious faith in that decision.

It didn't keep her from bugging the entire ship with microphones and a few cameras. The hallway outside her door was especially important, earning two of her own cameras and the normal security one, repaired enough to be subverted to her purposes. If tr'Ronu gained too much stupid courage, she expected he'd lay a trap for her.

Spying on Engineering was satisfying, and doubly-so as it had been quite difficult to plant the microphone while pretending to clean nooks and crannies of the ship that hadn't been touched... possibly since it had been built. And yet the areas with the greatest dust were the ones most likely to be overlooked, so she had sneezed and coughed her way through them all.

Her free time was quickly spent with automated transcripts of the conversations that her little computer recorded; she could tap a sentence and have the actual speech delivered to her earpiece, but skim over the arcanities of keeping the singularity, drives, and cloaking device happy.

The important details, of interest to her, were:

D'lirr was terrified of her when she wasn't present as well as when she was, and spoke a bit too freely about being implicated in their gravity prank. Arrhae gathered, from his snappish comments, that he'd been pressured into covering Engineering while t'Tei and t'Killis did the majority of the work and Konra played lookout on Arrhae's door.

(She carefully considered the matter, and dumped most of those recordings and transcripts. If she needed those admissions later, she could pressure them out of him directly. Otherwise, there was no sense in leaving them where they might be discovered by someone else. No matter that she still disliked third shift intensely; they were her crew to spare or punish, not anyone else's.)

(Not Director Hakeev's.)

T'Tei, for all her attempt at a friendly smile that first day, was pure poison, the worst cross between the venom and evasion of a _nei'rrh_ and the viciousness of a _hnoiyika_. No one in the crew was safe from having their spines ripped out when they weren't present, including both her cousin and lover. She was happy enough to take cuts at D'liir and Jaeil to their faces (saying they were cowards and hlai-witted, both), but behind the rest of the crew's backs... Her lover t'Raedheol was unimaginative and dull (if trainable in bed); cousin t'Killis was weak-willed and sloppy; Konra was ugly and had no ambition; tr'Dreth was lazy for what ambitions he did have; t'Saii showed her human blood (apparently a catch-all for any flaw that came to t'Tei's mind); tr'Ronu was an ambitious idiot (Arrhae agreed) who had the bad taste to lust after Jaeil's breasts despite her mental failings; tr'Verih was a weak-willed bed-hopper who'd fall to his knees for anyone who crooked a finger at him; and tr'Aeyn was most likely in the pay of the Vulcan Alliance if not a Vulcan agent himself. Also, t'Tei was sure he cheated at card-games, if only because he kept winning whenever _she_ cheated.

(Arrhae thought that last bit was more a compliment than not.)

In short, spacing t'Tei would have improved the ship's atmosphere marvelously, perhaps even more than spacing tr'Ronu. Unfortunately, both t'Tei's cousin and lover were convinced she was honest with _them_ , and any hints otherwise were met with vicious defensiveness. Arrhae had no hope that even recordings would persuade those two; more likely, she'd be accused of synthesizing the whole thing. Even Konra appeared to believe t'Tei was harmless and worth being the unofficial leader of third shift, and tr'Ronu seemed to trust her with his own complaints — especially about Arrhae herself.

(She kept most of those recordings; pretending to not know what people were saying, until it was to one's advantage, was _entirely_ in keeping with Director Hakeev's preferences.)

T'Raedheol herself was... stoic, stubborn, and in matters outside t'Tei's influence, steady. She didn't seem to like anyone particularly, aside from her lover, but neither did she go out of her way to sabotage or needle them.

And t'Saii... Even if t'Saii had known that Arrhae had been eavesdropping on Engineering, she couldn't have been more sincere in displaying her personality. From the reactions of everyone else, it was no surprise that she often tried to give others a chance to prove themselves untrustworthy (alas, she didn't seem to realize _how_ toxic t'Tei was) or the opposite. T'Saii was Arrhae's only champion in Engineering, openly admitting that her loyalty was coffee-bought in skillful deflection of accusations of seeking bedroom promotions.

If D'liir hadn't been so guilty for his minimal part in the "gravity incident," Arrhae suspected t'Saii might have brought him around to a cautious loyalty instead of fear.

Perhaps he'd become less skittish eventually — though with t'Tei's tendency to "remind" him that he'd been awake for the gravity incident as well, and her comments regarding Arrhae's presumed treacherous bloodthirst...

Really, it was enough to make one wish replicators could fabricate shock-collars reliably. (One would _think_ it would be possible; transporters could transport them, obviously. But for whatever reason, such detailed circuitry never came out well from a replicator. Explosions were more common.)

Bugging the exercise and eating rooms had been easier, and yielded even more conversations. T'Tei and tr'Ronu's were the ones that made her want to bang her forehead against the wall, as the pair fed off their ambitions: t'Tei's for blackmail on everyone, Arrhae thought, and tr'Ronu's for whatever petty power he could claw his way into. Ship command was his dream, of course, even if it was only of this tiny observational craft.

Drawing up graphs of which people talked to which... gave her the very interesting data that tr'Dreth talked to hardly anyone where she could hear. And what he did talk about was work: the data analyses, the sensors, the "star noise" until Jaeil quietly "admitted" that t'Killis had apparently been right. For a man who enjoyed his candies, he didn't say much about the food, even when the conversation came 'round to the new programs.

Arrhae wondered what he talked about in his quarters, to tr'Ronu. Bugging those would be rewarding, she suspected, but trickier than even Engineering if tr'Dreth were as paranoid as t'Saii had been.

She had a hunch that he might well be that paranoid. _Someone_ would be informing on her, and no sane handler would want _t'Tei_ doing it, despite her taste for gossip. But someone capable with sensors and able to keep their own counsel? Arrhae rolled dice in her head daily as to whether it was tr'Dreth, tr'Aeyn, or both.

Fascinating as the dynamics were, she refused to let them keep her in her quarters during her secondary-duty shifts. Which was, some few days later and at the midpoint of the satellites, why she was up calibrating the sensors again when t'Saii came and tapped on the slightly-lowered "ramp" that led to the sensor-nest.

Arrhae was already half-in one of the mesh webbings, in case of surprise yanks on the ramp. She craned her head to verify the identity of the visitor and said, "Come up?"

"Thank you, sir." The engineer pulled the ramp down enough to clamber up and pull it partway up again. "Er, have a moment?"

"At least three more minutes till the diagnostic finishes," Arrhae said. "Is something wrong?"

"Probably not, Commander, but Jaeil's got a _nei'rrh_ under her collar, and she's not going to ask you, so I'd better."

Yes, Arrhae definitely needed to tuck microphones in everyone's quarters. Whether it would be possible... Wasn't something to muse upon. "So ask," she said, with a wry attempt at a smile.

T'Saii took a breath, lowered her voice, and said, "You are absolutely not interested in Vir, right?"

Knowing something of the gossip, the trail of that rumor was obvious: t'Tei to t'Raedheol to Jaeil — all within quarters, or tucked away in places she hadn't managed to bug yet.

"I am absolutely not interested in bedding anyone on this ship." Or, in truth, anyone at all, though blackmail and favor-trading had required that in the past and likely would in the future. "I am especially uninterested in tr'Verih."

"Can't trust the handsome ones, eh?" t'Saii said, with a grin. Arrhae just looked at her, and the grin faded. "Commander?"

After another moment blinking, Arrhae said, "I... suppose he is. I hadn't considered the matter."

T'Saii started to open her mouth, then closed it again. Arrhae waited, until finally the curly-haired woman said, "Ah, Commander... I know I shouldn't ask, and I don't mean any harm — I mean, well..." She pulled at one of her ringlets, where it lay centered between her vestigial forehead ridging.

That was a bit easier to decode. She shrugged. "Mother never said who my father was. It wasn't important." Other people had both mothers and fathers, but some had only one or the other, and she hadn't thought to be curious till after her mother's death.

"Oh." T'Saii seemed unconvinced by this dubious reassurance.

Arrhae quirked a smile again. "Medical checks have never implied I have any 'fresher' Vulcan ancestry than anyone else, though." And after the inbreeding from the journey from Vulcan, not to mention various historical conflicts that had at one point left the population barely viable — and there were histories pieced together from fragments and "discredited" scholars, available to a Tal Shiar's ward if not taught in official classes... well, there were numerous variations from "purebred" Vulcan, and not just the forehead ridges that Arrhae conspicuously lacked.

This time, t'Saii matched her expression. "All right, Commander. I'll reassure Jaeil about Vir. Thank you."

"By all means." She glanced at a display and chin-pointed to it. "And here's the diagnostic finished. I'll follow you out."

**Notes for the Chapter:**

> If I am reading http://www.rihan.org/drupal/grammar/verbs correctly, the Rihannsu language attaches the "negative" to a verb directly. E.g., "to go," vs. "to not-go." Therefore, unlike the English rule that infinitives should never be split — because in Latin, they _cannot_ be split (being part of the verb, so it would be "not to-go") — it is more accurate to Romulans to _always_ split the infinitive in the case of doing or not doing something. Adverbs, for best translation, still technically don't get to wedge themselves in. ("To go boldly," not "to boldly go"... ;) Or, for that matter, to not go boldly... >_>


	32. Susse-kllhe

* * *

With five days left to meet the deadline, and already heading back from the penultimate satellite, tr'Ronu had merited several taps of the least pain, and then confronted Arrhae as she used one of the treadmills in the recreational area, during her free time. Since t'Saii, tr'Dreth, and t'Raedheol were all present — tr'Dreth to amble along on the other treadmill, t'Saii to rest after her prior stint on one, and t'Raedheol to talk to t'Saii about some Engineering thing — Arrhae let the angry pilot work himself up to blatant inappropriateness of words and action before using the third level of stimulus.

He crashed to his knees, then keeled over further and nearly got himself entangled in the treadmill itself, requiring Arrhae to release the button and hastily smack the exercise machine's controls to shut it down before it tried to eat his ear. If he was going to get an ear notched or rounded, _she_ would be the one to do it.

Tr'Dreth stopped his own machine and hung over the handrail while the two engineers hauled tr'Ronu semi-upright on his knees. Arrhae herself came 'round her treadmill's rail and went to one knee to see the damage.

It was bloody: he'd split his lip open, and smacked his forehead hard enough for an abraded gash to be dripping emerald down the side of his face. He struggled to get an arm free of the other two crew, presumably so he could hit Arrhae, but couldn't manage it before she drew back. "Get him to the Medbay, if you would," she said. "There's a dermal regenerator there and I should check for concussion."

" _Ri'yika,_ " tr'Ronu snarled, but though he was trying to get his feet under him, the two women dragged him backwards and toward the door.

As they exited, t'Raedheol was the one hissing that if he didn't stop struggling, he'd wind up hit with the collar's pain-stimulation again, and who knew how _that_ would scramble his brains.

While Arrhae pulled her uniform tunic straighter, giving the trio more time to get tr'Ronu onto the medical bed, tr'Dreth said, "He's not going to leave the ship on his own, sir."

"I'll recommend him for a transfer." She'd have recommended him for a promotion, if it got him off her ship — but her word was unlikely to have any weight anywhere. And while she was to the point of contemplating trading removal of tr'Ronu for another few hours of "gratitude" to Admiral tr'Llhevil... Such exchanges would have to be approved by her guardian.

The thought of asking permission to make that bargain gave her a sick, cold feeling, warning her away from the thought. She analyzed the instinct as she slowly paced the too-short distance to the Medbay, and decided... No, Director Hakeev would not approve if she took initiative in using those skills. It would reveal that she knew she had access to a resource on her own.

The most likely result, then, would be that he relieved her of command here, and placed her back where she could be more closely monitored: in his house and household.

Best not to. Best to pretend she'd never thought of making that trade on her own.

And further, she should not ask the admiral for anything, or recommend any transfers up that chain of command, as she guessed _he_ would suggest that payment from her. No, too close to asking for something from someone besides her guardian, as if she could act without his guidance. Without his orders. Without his favor.

No. She would use the _correct_ chain of command: that of Tal Shiar enarrain to her superior. If the Director agreed that removing tr'Ronu would be better for whatever plans he had regarding observational craft _Fve-Rhi-Sei_ , then matters would be arranged on that front, and if her skills were required? It would not be at her own suggestion.

When she looked into the Medbay, wonder of wonders, the other two women had not only gotten tr'Ronu onto the med-bed, but he was lying down, the scanner arched over him and hampering any attempt to escape or attack. T'Saii was sitting on his lower legs and ankles, her knees to either side of his, and scowling at him. T'Raedheol was in the tiny space at the head of the med-bed, pressing a gauze pad to his forehead.

It was useful that t'Raedheol's usual expression was a glower, since it meant Arrhae didn't have to pay any attention to it as she slithered beside the engineer to get into the appropriate cabinet.

Once the dermal regenerator was in hand, she said, "Here, lift the pad." She added, a moment later, "Hold his head still, please."

T'Raedheol did, probably with a nasty pinch to tr'Ronu's far ear from how he winced. Arrhae carefully worked to seal up the forehead-wound, ignoring his slit-eyed, sidelong glare, and paused after it was done. "Your lip's cut," she told him. "I'm not going to repair it if you'll just try to bite me."

He growled, "Patching me up for later?"

It wasn't the right pronoun for a subordinate to address a superior, and she took a moment while she decided if she should punish him for it. Sadly, t'Raedheol was correct: if he was concussed, additional neural stimulation was unlikely to do anything good for his ability to pilot.

So she set the dermal regenerator on the top of the med-bed's scanner and slid past t'Raedheol again for a hand-held medical scanner, since the bed's own sensors were more for midsection damage or whole-body matters. Waving that around his head... "No bleeding. Minor trauma, but he should be able to sleep safely," she said to the room in general. "If he doesn't wake up with a serious headache, he's probably fine for duty, but I can cover that shift if needed."

T'Raedheol grunted, then added, "Should tell Dreth."

"It would be nice," Arrhae said, again to the room at large, "to be able to assume someone could inform his own roommate of the situation. Please hold his head again; might as well fix everything fixable. It's good that no teeth got cracked."

The snarl he gave was actually helpful for exposing the area that needed repairs.

Once done, she nodded, then considered going back into the cabinet one more time and simply set the dermal regenerator next to the medical scanner on the top of the scan-arch. "I'm going to my quarters. Someone should put the equipment back in the cabinets. Thank you." She turned and left, pausing to tell tr'Dreth — still in the recreational area — the same as she'd told the others about tr'Ronu's status, and then climbing the central ladder to the second crew level.

In her quarters, with the door locked, she tucked in an earpiece and selected the conversation in the Medbay, skimming over the transcript of tr'Ronu's curses between her being "out of earshot" and getting to her room.

" _I'm getting tired of this,_ " t'Saii said, breaking into the rant amid the sounds of Medbay being tidied. " _Stop, tr'Ronu, just stop. You **lose**. You **keep** losing._"

" _And let that ill-born **susse-kllhe** win?_"

" _Yes!_ " t'Saii snapped. " _Rae, tell him to learn how to keep his mouth shut!_ "

T'Raedheol sighed loudly. " _She's right, Roh. You keep trying the same thing, and it's not working._ "

" _That ri'yika stole command!_ "

Darkly, t'Saii said, " _And she'll be gone soon enough, promoted up when she's proven herself here. Keep challenging her, and **you** won't be around to grab for the command-title when it happens._"

T'Raedheol said, with a trace of her lover's venom, " _Planning to try to go with her, t'Saii?_ "

There was a pause, long enough for Arrhae to lift her eyebrows in the privacy of her quarters, before t'Saii said, " _Wouldn't mind, if the ship had room for a junior engineer. Can't think it'd be small enough to get me a senior berth. Mogai-class, I'd wager._ "

While t'Raedheol muttered something about "anything being a bigger ship than this," tr'Ronu growled, " _So that's why you're half on your knees to her all the time? Think she'll be your patron?_ "

T'Saii made a blithe noise of disdain. " _I'd fall on my knees for **coffee** , and she's the one who brought it! Did **you** ever bring me coffee? No. You did not. You want to buy my support? Bring me better coffee if you can!_"

T'Raedheol made a disparaging comment about the beverage, and though Arrhae followed the conversation a bit longer, through the hallway, t'Saii went for her quarters and perforce the two second-shift crew were left to return to their duties — especially as the second-shift engineer was nigh as tired of tr'Ronu's complaints as t'Saii had been.

Arrhae spared a moment to hope that t'Saii was the ship's informer; the odds would thus become that she'd give a glowing report, then come quietly mentioning the reason for presumed promotions, in the hopes that an advantageous bargain might be made for them both. And while Arrhae would certainly have to weigh the balance and consequences... the idea appealed.

Alas, with her luck, it would turn out tr'Ronu was the informer, and that was the real reason she wasn't supposed to kill him. At least Director Hakeev would be unlikely to believe much of whatever he said, knowing the bias.

She skimmed the various conversation-transcripts that had been recorded since she last checked the device, deleted most of them, and went to cautiously take a shower — with enough of a toolkit kept near her that, should the room try to fill with replicated water, she'd be able to get the door open quickly.

It was a good thing the shock-collar's controlling bracelet was waterproof.


	33. Iernrae'edhir... u'Aehhenelhir

* * *

_My dear ward,_ the text message read. _I understand from your report that you expect to return to the home system on the seventh day of the new month, as calculated in the capital. A day earlier than the deadline; I congratulate you on this successful assignment._

The successful assignment that was either the next best thing to useless work, a nigh-insulting test such as a teacher might administer, or something very delicate and secret masquerading as one (or both) of the first two. Arrhae's instincts were that it was the last one.

And those same instincts suggested... she should pretend she thought it a test of her skills to command a ship, and nothing more. A chance to shine, and so reflect well upon her guardian and mentor. Perhaps, if pressed, a diversion from wherever the prior commander had been placed.

But nothing pertaining to that vague sense of familiarity about the odd patterns Jaeil had discovered. Nothing, unless or until it became advantageous to reveal she knew — and that she had known and kept silent.

The message continued, inexorably and unpleasantly: _Once you have returned, you will be expected back, shortly after midmeal local time, at Admiral tr'Llhevil's estate tower. The admiral and I have sorted out the misunderstandings, but your own apologies will of course be valuable. This should take no more than an hour, perhaps even half that. I will inspect your ship while you perform courtesies for Admiral tr'Llhevil._

_Your guardian, Hakeev_

Arrhae ran her tongue along the backs of her teeth, keeping her expression blank even though there was no one to see. Hopefully a half hour to an hour would mean a relative lack of unpleasantness in dealing with the admiral. Meanwhile... "Inspect the ship" meant questioning the crew as well, no doubt. Or inspecting them.

She had, as she had said, no true power to grant favors. However, what little power she might have...

Swinging around from her seat, she strode out of her quarters and made for the end of the hallway that debouched in Engineering, where D'liir was currently on duty. Descending the ladder-rungs there, she craned her neck till she found him at one of the farther consoles. "D'liir," she called, trying to be brisk and relatively non-threatening.

He startled anyway, like a _hlai'vna_ himself. "Commander?"

"I want to get back to ch'Rihan earlier than we'd planned. I only need an extra half-day, I suspect, but a full one would be best. How much can we push the engines while remaining cloaked?"

"It... it might depend on who's on duty, sir," the engineer said.

"Give me a range."

"If it's t'Saii or t'Tei, almost to warp four. I could manage about warp three and a half, if I don't have any help. I... I don't know if t'Raedheol would see the point."

One of that engineer's flaws, besides not realizing t'Tei was poison: she wasn't driven by any urge to show off, and while she wasn't truly lazy (unlike t'Killis), or prone to cutting too many corners, she wouldn't bother to exceed expectations without good reason.

Arrhae made the calculations, tapping her tongue-tip against the roof of her mouth in a silent, hidden fidget. "That should suffice. Prepare to try for warp three point five. If you can't do it, message the bridge; they'll drop down till you can handle the power-balancing required." No need to look about and see if he had any help; t'Saii wasn't awake yet. Arrhae had only been so because they'd been getting the data from the last of the satellites. And the other two engineers didn't give D'liir a lot of assistance unless he asked for it — which exposed him to snide remarks.

"Yes, sir," he said, and Arrhae nodded to him and left for the bridge.

There, tr'Verih and tr'Aeyn gave her looks, with tr'Verih's showing alarm and tr'Aeyn merely alertness. She told them, "I received a reply to my report, from the last satellite, as I believe you know?"

"Yes, sir," tr'Aeyn said.

"I want us to get back to ch'Rihan as quickly as reasonably possible. D'liir thinks he can keep us securely cloaked up to warp three and a half or so. Give it a try. If he can't maintain the balance, drop down till he can. Understood?" She made the terse command-question as cheerful as she could.

"Yes, sir," the pilot said, and tapped an intercom button. "D'liir, ready to speed up?"

" _Ready, Vir._ "

"Easing him up. Three point one. Point two. Point three."

" _A moment, Vir. The cloaking field is destabilizing._ "

"Understood. Holding here?"

" _Yes._ " A pause, then, " _All right. I think I've got it. Try for point four._ "

"Accelerating to three point four. Steady?"

" _Steady._ "

"Point four two. Point four four. Point four six. Four eight. Warp three point five."

" _And stable for now,_ " D'liir said, with a hint of satisfaction making it through the intercom.

"Call if it slips and we'll slow till you've got it balanced again," tr'Verih said.

" _Understood. Engineering out._ "

As the connection dropped, tr'Verih looked over his shoulder. Arrhae nodded to him, letting her expression be pleased and approving. "Very good. Thank you. I'm going to try to catch a nap before I relieve you."

"Good idea, sir!" tr'Verih said, with a sunny grin that faded quickly into a slightly worried look.

She twisted up a little smile, gave a wave that was half an acknowledgement and half a dismissal, and left the bridge.

This meant she'd not have time to practice ship-dancing, but there would be other opportunities for that.


	34. Temdeleth

* * *

Informing t'Saii of the speed requirements was, of course, easy. A murmured, "I want to drop you and Jaeil off at Spacedock before we are expected on the ground," was sufficient to inspire the engineer to get so close to warp four, while cloaked, as to nearly break that barrier entirely.

Coaxing t'Tei into making the effort required both reporting t'Saii's success and — in a bit of manipulation that was shamefully blunt — casually mentioning that t'Raedheol had been unwilling to try very hard either...

The best part had been seeing t'Tei being aware of the manipulation attempt, struggling with herself, and losing anyway. She'd gritted out, "I'll see what I can do," and produced a respectable warp three point seven.

T'Raedheol even managed to push up to three point two, with — from the sound of the recorded conversations — rolling of the eyes.

And so they had nearly eight hours to spare when they came into Eisn system, with the homeworlds in their dance of gravity about it. At the outer edges, _Fve-Rhi-Sei_ slowed to impulse long enough to get a flight path from Spacedock — and, incidentally, shed some of those excess hours as Arrhae ascertained exactly what time "midmeal" would be on the admiral's estate.

Then they returned to fractional warp, dropped back to impulse and then maneuvering thrusters at the station, and slid into the assigned berth with tr'Verih at the helm and Arrhae nearly ready to relieve him.

"And the airlock clamps are secure, Commander," the pilot said, lifting his hands from the console. "We're docked."

"Excellent." She folded her hands together in front of her lips for a moment. "T'Saii, Jaeil?"

From behind her, her engineer said, "We're ready, Commander."

"Good. And... take D'liir. I have an errand for him to run. T'Raedheol's going to be covering for you anyway."

"We'll wait out in the station corridor, if that's all right, Commander?" t'Saii said.

"It is." She stood. "Hold the bridge a moment longer for me, tr'Verih?"

"Of course, sir. Why D'liir?" His expression was... friendly, she thought, but well aware the question might be pushing his luck.

She considered her reply. "My guardian is an imposing man. I don't want to lose one of our engineers to a case of nerves, should he blurt out something... unfortunate, or easy to misunderstand." Such as the extent of the gravitation prank. "I do have an errand that needs finishing, and it seems a way to trap two birds with one net."

"Ah." Tr'Verih nodded, then looked wry. "No way for me to get out of it too, eh?"

"Not this time," she said, and left the bridge.

In Engineering, D'liir was transferring to t'Raedheol. Before he could exit to the lower crew deck, Arrhae waved him over and into the corridor near the airlock.

"Sir?" he said.

"I want you to run an errand. I was going to leave it to t'Saii, but she may need to stay with Jaeil." Such as if the scans pronounced the pregnancy genetically ill-fated, and in need of termination. Arrhae went on, "I want you to obtain another, updated set of replicator programs. But don't mention the nutritional issues, lest that rumor get out where someone important might turn out to be embarrassed. Impugn my grounder preferences instead, if anyone asks, and imply I have sent you out to secure better-tasting food. Understood?"

"Understood, sir."

"Good." She dared to clap her hand to his upper arm, and he stood straighter after his nervous flinch. "Go, catch up with them. We may have to leave you three on-station till after we've visited the planet and come back."

(Would definitely have to, if she had her way.)

"Sir," he said, and actually made a fist-to-shoulder salute and slight bow.

Hopefully concealing her surprise, she nodded back, and he turned and left.

She had little power to protect those who were in her command. But what she had... _Elements, let it be enough,_ she mouthed against her fingers as she stood in brief contemplation.

Then she went to relieve tr'Verih. There would be a couple hours before they'd need to undock and head for ch'Rihan proper. Perhaps she should let everyone but herself and t'Raedheol have a short liberty on the station. The risk in reports happening where she couldn't notice the outgoing transmission was probably offset by letting everyone else have some time away from each other.

Besides, if most of the crew was off the ship, she'd be able to add a few more surveillance devices without being noticed.


	35. Yyaio Hhaes

**Notes for the Chapter:**

>  _ **Content Warning: Sexual Situations of... unenthusiastic consent.**_  
>  _Also Content Warning: Hakeev, minor_

* * *

As she'd expected, though t'Tei and t'Raedheol were both cranky about one engineer being required to remain — with some veiled comments about sending D'liir off — eventually it was the relatively unimaginative t'Raedheol who stayed while t'Tei took the opportunity for a brief excursion.

Before leaving, Tr'Ronu snarled, "I will go to your precious Tal Shiar on the station." When she only waved absent dismissal, he stomped out, growling.

Tr'Dreth, surprisingly, delayed the longest, until Arrhae bluntly told him, "Get off this ship and be back promptly. There's no telling if we'll be permitted any other leave before our next assignment." That would probably depend on if Admiral tr'Llhevil was pleased with her "apology," as well as if Director Hakeev had any further information he wished gathered.

The argument — or the order — convinced him, and _finally_ she was able to fetch equipment from her quarters and do some proper, efficient placement of cameras and microphones on the bridge. The next stage was to subvert the ship's computer itself, allowing her to access any of the normal surveillance nodes (should they be operational), as well as a back-flow, so she could — if she direly needed — pull feeds from her own devices onto the bridge. Or into Medbay, for that matter; she didn't want to get trapped in some location if tr'Ronu or third shift decided she _wasn't_ going to be moving on soon, and they were all right with risking tr'Ronu's life.

That back-flow feed was as hemmed around with requirements — passcodes and biometrics — as she could manage, and as hidden in the computer likewise. The default programs that she'd loaded from her Tal Shiar computer could have their "discretion" augmented in a few ways, and she used all of them.

Programming was like another language, and Arrhae had always been good at languages.

When they were ready to leave, tr'Dreth was the first one back, and tr'Ronu _nearly_ the last. (She twitched an eyebrow at him in mild surprise.) Last was D'liir, who called ahead on his communicator to say he was almost there, and Arrhae caught him at the airlock and instructed him to go find t'Saii and tell her and Jaeil that the ship had left without them.

D'liir didn't ask questions, which was likely good for his future survival, and loped off down the corridor while Arrhae — being there anyway — secured the airlock doors and made her way back to the bridge.

For once, it was tr'Verih who was loitering on the ladder-rungs while Arrhae took her place in the pilot's seat. Though a yawn, he said, "Should fourth go back go bed, sir?"

She pressed her lips together. "No. Get stimulants. The crew will almost certainly be on display." While he gave his _yes, Commander_ and climbed up to the hatch, she affirmed the flight path and performed a careful, competent undocking, and equally conservative approach to the designated coordinates.

The flight was trickier than she'd remembered, once they hit atmosphere. Despite her cautious flight plan, she wobbled in gusts of wind and gritted her teeth through three clouds. Once into the lower reaches where small flitters usually stayed, she was more secure with her skill, despite the larger size of the _Fve-Rhi-Sei_ and his different wind-resistance profile.

She had noticed tr'Ronu's appearance in the reflective spot of her console some time ago, and the control bracelet's quiet vibration had confirmed that the collar's wearer was nearby. So she didn't startle when he said, "You're a lousy pilot." Amazingly, he was at least using the correct pronoun for a superior officer.

"I'm glad you've sense not to bother a lousy pilot during atmospheric re-entry," she said. The admiral's estate came into view, the observation tower visible both on the display's cameras, and with false-color marking its invisible radio beacons. She flipped on the intercom. "Approaching landing site. Please secure yourselves. Be ready to present yourselves outside the ship upon arrival."

Tr'Ronu swung into the usually-empty tactical chair, where he'd been the day she'd been given command. "Just like last time, hm?"

"Hopefully not quite," she answered, dryly. She had no wish to be replaced. There'd been no notice of such, and she would have assumed that Director Hakeev would want her packed and ready to leave immediately, if she were to be relieved of command.

Unless he had gotten some report she'd not been aware of, or found some terrible flaw in one of hers, and she was to be punished.

Always a concern.

Nothing she could do anything about now, though, save perform so well in all other things as to remain valuable despite a failure.

Lousy pilot or not, landing was not outside her skill. Indeed, she was well-pleased with the performance, touching down gently enough that only the faintest of shocks vibrated through the ship's hull. She cut power, then safed the console and stood. "Tr'Dreth, I was concentrating more on my flying — did you get a visual on anyone watching from the tower?"

"Yes, sir," the sensors officer said. "The admiral and your director, and a servant. Magnification suggests wine and fruits are present."

"Mm." She wove between the doors. "One moment, then. I'll exit first. Have the data-sticks ready to be turned over."

"Yes, sir," he said, as she left.

Third shift was waiting in the hallway, and she slid past them all, shoulders tight with tension, to get to Medbay, get what she wanted, and stuff the hypo in her boot. Then she slid past t'Tei and to the airlock that had, thankfully, been readied. A button-push to extend the ramp, and another to slide the outer door into its hull-pocket, and raw, fresh air flooded into the airlock-space.

Arrhae was striding out and down the ramp almost before she took in the smells: vegetation, ripe fruits, fertilizer, perhaps even the scent of the Klingons who were tending the fields in the golden, warm light of Eisn. It was uncomfortably bright in her eyes, after so many days of shipboard lighting, and it soon felt hot through her uniform tunic — though a breeze tempered that, while also making her edgy until she consciously realized it wasn't a hull leak. The gravity felt odd as well, and she welcomed the stability of the formal stance when she got to the correct position for it.

Dimly, she recalled that all the oddities of a planet had been new and fascinating, when she'd been taken to the boarding school her mother had chosen for her. It was an old, unimportant memory, of a child long gone. She banished it for the immediate present, and the striving for perfection within each moment.

The rest of the crew had, she thought, finished exiting the ship by the time her guardian appeared at the tower's door. Director Hakeev had not, of course, changed appreciably in a pair of tendays. Tall, wide-shouldered, giving an impression of a massiveness even more than his body actually had. His uniform harness was accented in gold and red, especially around the raptor emblem at the chest, and the uniform itself had small golden squares around the collar instead of the usual silvery or gray ones. The sun made them glitter when he stepped from the tower's shade.

He was followed by a slightly shorter, slightly less wide-shouldered man, in a drabber uniform, with hair even more close-cut than D'liir's. Arrhae recognized the man's watchfulness and pose, if not his face; the Director of the Tal Shiar had a bodyguard even when she wasn't around.

As they approached, she bowed deeply, fist to shoulder, and waited to be addressed.

"My dear ward. How good to see you again."

She straightened, putting both hands behind her back. "I hope all is well with you, my guardian."

"We will discover if that is so," he said, which broke the empty formalities and roiled her gut slightly. "The admiral will receive your apologies. Don't keep him waiting."

"Sir," she said, and bowed again, before moving to pass him and his new bodyguard.

He reached out and grabbed her arm. "You wear a bit of frippery, Arrhae."

She turned to look up at him, a _sir?_ on her lips, till she realized... He released her as she unfastened the control bracelet, and took it from her. "Go on, girl."

So she turned back and walked into the tower.

She took the lift — it was fastest, and "don't keep him waiting" meant exactly that. It opened inside the tower; she stepped forward and pushed open the door.

Admiral tr'Llhevil wore his uniform, rather than any civilian clothing. He sat half-facing the door, this time. There was a wine-glass in his hand, and another, well-filled, upon the small table next to it.

There was no other chair; presumably it had been removed immediately after the Director had left the balcony.

She took the necessary step so that tr'Llhevil did not have to turn his head much to watch her, and bowed to him. "Admiral. I am glad to hear that any misunderstandings have been erased, and I apologize for my part in them."

"Indeed," he said, noncommittally.

Matters would, she was sure, turn unpleasant if she let him get around to giving orders. She went down to one knee, then the other, sitting on her ankles just in front of him. "I am given to understand that the Director may take as much as an hour to do his own inspection of the ship and crew. If I can make amends for my part..."

"Hm." He slouched slightly in the chair, extending one leg past her, sliding against her arm. Drawling, he said, "Arrhae, come here."

She went up onto her knees and moved one forward as she shifted towards him. Her hands and arms went along the top of his legs, and as he beckoned her closer, she wound up leaning against him. The combination of the sun and their shared body-heat was... sticky. She ignored it.

"You hardly tasted the wine, last you were here. It is of my own fields, and I am proud of it." He set his glass on the table and picked up the other one, holding it down to her. His other hand curled around the back of her head.

"I knew I would have to pilot, sir," she said, but brought her hand up to his, giving some guidance as he put the glass to her lips. She didn't try to feign the drinking; he'd notice soon enough if the level didn't go down, and there was no way to engineer a hidden spill that didn't drip onto him as well.

This wine was sweet — almost unfermented fruit juice, save for the alcohol that she could smell, and that burned gently in her throat. She couldn't decide if she wished he had just fed her ale and given over any pretense he didn't want her at least somewhat drunk, or if she at least approved of something that wouldn't leave her mouth entirely raw. And he was drinking it himself, though her lesser body-mass made her more vulnerable to its effect.

Eventually, he took the glass away, with the liquid within much lessened. With only a nutrient bar in her stomach (and one with insufficient nutrients, at that), she wondered if she could truly feel herself becoming dizzy or if it were merely the power of suggestion.

He took her chin in his fingers, in close to a pinching grip, and pulled, so she had to look up at him. (Not the best of views of people, looking up their noses, but she had no intention of mentioning that out loud.) He snorted. "Drunk _Yyaio_ , eh?"

She blinked vaguely, determined that there was really nothing worth saying to that, and trailed a hand down the front of his uniform towards his belt. If he wanted to think she was more tipsy than she was, all the better; it gave her some latitude in interpreting any instructions he might deliver. And _that_ bestowed the opportunity to take some control of what would follow.

If she performed well enough, perhaps she might even keep her uniform in good order, and on her body.


	36. Na Thaemnae

**Notes for the Chapter:**

> **Content Warning: Hakeev. Content Warning: Violence.**   
>  _(You did read the content-warning tags, yes? Please make sure you've read the content warning tags for the work...)_

* * *

After a bit longer than the half-hour she'd hoped for, but short of a full hour — and with her uniform un-removed — Arrhae bid Admiral tr'Llhevil a good day with as much proper formality as she could manage after the second glass of deceptively-sweet wine he'd insisted she drink. As displays of dominance went, it was lesser than the various alternatives she too easily imagined. And it enhanced her current mellow emotions regarding the man, who'd been wise enough not to shove her head in unfortunate, gag-inducing ways.

She took extreme care, bowing, so she would not tumble into his lap, and further care when she turned to leave, so that she would not stumble or weave. It was even harder than she'd expected; that vintage was clearly stronger than many harsher ales. She brushed close to the doorframe as she exited the balcony, and heard him chuckle behind her.

Well, better he get his amusement at a "drunk _Yyaio_ " than anything more sadistic. This, she could have repeated once or twice a month and still maintained a diffidently amiable opinion of him.

Nevertheless, as she staggered into the thankfully empty lift, this was beyond what she dared present to the Director. Impairment for reasons beyond her control might excuse _some_ failings, but it would be better to have her wits functioning as much as possible.

So, out loud, she murmured, "He will tell me to pilot," and pulled the hypo from her boot. She dragged her uniform collar a little down and applied the hypo to her neck, tightening her jaw at the prickling bite, then let her arms dangle as it took effect, chasing the effects of the alcohol from her body. A faint headache replaced the mellow haze; she would need to drink some water soon to banish it.

She feigned a regretful expression as she put the hypo away again. There were undoubtedly cameras, and while Admiral tr'Llhevil would likely have preferred she meander soddenly back to her quarters on the observational craft, hopefully he also understood that she would not want to endanger the ship and crew with drunken piloting.

Her collar still smelled of the sweet wine; some had spilled past her lips when he'd tilted the glass overmuch. A hazard of trying to feed someone else at awkward angles; even sobered, she couldn't muster much resentment. He hadn't been trying to half-drown her in it, and the uniform would wash.

One of the household servants was there to open the lower door for her, though none had been present when she'd entered. A pleasing thought: the admiral might prefer his own privacy as well, despite the balcony being exposed to the sky. She gave a faint nod to the woman as she passed through, going once again outside.

The ship was still there, of course; even tipsy and distracted, she would have noticed it leaving. The crew were either still, or once again, at semi-attention in a line paralleling _Fve-Rhi-Sei_ 's length. Shadowed by the bodyguard, Director Hakeev was pacing behind them, now and then trailing a hand along what parts of the ship were safe to touch.

Though the stride looked lazy, Arrhae's shoulders tightened again. He was impatient. And he was outside, which meant... waiting for her? Or he'd tried entering the ship and found it too low-ceilinged and narrow for his dignity, and was irked by that? "Both" was always an option as well. Perhaps the thought of conversing with her when he would have to stoop — unless they were in Engineering — was too intolerable.

The bodyguard noticed her first, and made some low comment. Director Hakeev turned, fixed a professional, political smile upon his face, and called, "Arrhae, my dear," as he began walking towards her.

That was no good tone; it might fool a stranger, but all the household would have been on alert. Arrhae stopped where she was, and went to a stance of full attention, chin up and hands behind her back. She let her eyes stay a bit wide, fixed on infinity in front of her, for he did not like it when someone forgot to be a little afraid.

He came to stand in front of her, and said, again, "Arrhae." Then, while she was beginning to say _sir_ , he slapped her, hard enough that she staggered out of her stance. (It was a stance of attention anyway, not balance.)

"—Sir," she finished, face still turned away from the impact, and awaiting orders before she moved again. Her cheek hurt. She'd need the Medbay regenerator to mend the bruising along her cheekbone.

They were in full sight of the crew. Oddly, it mattered more that Jaeil, in particular, wasn't there to see it. But she had no time to dissect that emotion as her guardian grabbed her upper arm and half-spun, half-pushed her in the direction of the tower's curve. Perforce, she stumbled along and concentrated only on not falling while he strode — taller, longer-legged, faster than she could comfortably match — so he would not wind up dragging her. He was fully strong enough to do that, and neither pistol nor knives could be drawn against him.

They were only slightly out of full sight of the crew when he shoved her up against the tower's wall. She managed to keep from knocking her head against it very hard, taking the impact more on her shoulder, but the back-sheathed knife dug into her spine. Quickly, she gasped out, "My apologies, sir." Whatever it was that had angered him... apologize first, find out the cause later.

"You did not report," he said, in his false-pleasant tone, "how many times you used that collar."

Was tr'Ronu some hidden, ill-got son of a Senator? Of the Praetor himself? Director Hakeev had never had respect for Praetor Chulan, but if he'd found a hold... Arrhae swallowed and tried to count the incidents despite the distraction of her angry guardian. "At— at least seven. Maybe ten, sir." More if one counted separate taps of the button during the same confrontation. She couldn't remember all of those.

Hakeev slapped her other cheek, again hard enough to make her stagger and have to catch herself a half-pace from where she'd been. "At what settings!"

"N-no higher than third, sir. And that only once!" This made no sense; he'd known she'd wanted to use it, and he'd given her no warnings of number of times or level of pain she would be limited to, so long as tr'Ronu survived. Which meant this was about something else, or was some show for tr'Ronu? She volunteered, "He fell, sir, the once. I repaired the damage immediately!"

He took the front of her uniform in his fist and pulled her to face him fully, and up so she was on her toes while the tunic rode up above her leggings. "And what else were you leaving out of your reports to me?" he asked, pleasant-dangerous.

Whoever the ship's informant was, their reports hadn't matched enough. (Or there was none, and he was firing blind to spook the prey.) She whispered, "I would like more collars for third shift and one of second shift, sir."

That got her a shake, hard enough to rattle her despite her bracing against it. "Do you solve all your problems with those, my dear Arrhae?"

"No, sir. My apologies, sir." She hoped he wouldn't go back to the topic of reports.

"And why _did_ you do all those health scans, Arrhae?"

"One of the crew seemed ill, sir. Nutritional deficits. I scanned others, third shift, because they'd annoyed me — but I found the same, so I needed to check the rest, sir."

" _Annoyed_ you? My ward, you took such petty revenge for _annoyance_?" He shook her again, still harder than he usually did.

"M-my apologies, my guardian!" Begging never helped. Never. He'd taught her that... so long ago. But showing fear... sometimes worked, and she let her growing alarm stay in her voice. "I had completed the ship inspection, I knew I would become bored, I was hoping they would drop their guard if they thought the matter settled!"

This time he dragged her left and right, a slow-motion shake, with her tunic riding up under her arms. He said, "The matter being?"

"The gravity malfunction, sir!"

He leaned down to her. "That report was most incomplete, my dear ward."

"My apologies, my guardian," she gasped out. "I thought it not worth details."

"You woke them all up to repair it."

There was an informant. If not previously, then now, when he'd spoken to them. _Fvadt._ She said, "My quarters weren't secured for zero gravity, sir. And the lights had gone out."

" _My_ ward is afraid of the dark?" He rocked her back and forth again, then abruptly shoved her back against the tower wall; it was luck she didn't bite her tongue, trying to answer.

"It was inconvenient, my guardian. Their error. Theirs to fix." It was hard to speak in anything but a gasp, though her collar wasn't quite tightened enough to restrict her air.

He pulled her forward and thumped her against the tower again, twice, not quite hard enough to risk wounds but enough to sting the back of her head and imprint the sheathed knife's outline against her spine. "I wonder how well you are commanding your ship, my ward. You want as many as five shock-collars, and the ship's complement is merely twelve. _Including_ its commander."

The words spawned an _aehallh_ of ice in her gut, claws going around her heart and reaching for her lungs. She knew her expression had gone from proper alarm and fear to improper, revealing horror. "I—I will do better, my guardian!"

"Oh, really?" he said, and stepped back and to the side, dragging her around to face him.

Her back was to his bodyguard, and to the ship. She wasn't sure how visible she was to the crew. She started to say, _Yes, sir!_ Noted he'd released her. Tensed for the bodyguard to grab her from behind. Nearly missed the signs.

Her guardian slapped her again, putting his weight into it, hard enough he might have snapped her neck if she'd not tensed some muscles and allowed others to go slack at the blow. It carried her into the side of the tower, and she didn't take the impact well — instead of her shoulder or too-slowly raised hand, the side of her forehead hit first. Balance drained out of her and she fell to her hands and knees, with all the nausea she thought she'd dodged when she used the hypo in the lift. She gagged and gasped, trying not to throw up. Trying to scrabble further away when Hakeev's boots appeared in her vision, so she wouldn't throw up on _him_.

"Well?" he demanded.

She tried to remember what he'd asked before. Perhaps she'd lost track of something. "M-my apologies, sir," she choked out — and then did vomit, turning her head to the tower and heaving up the wine and remains of the nutrient bar. After she'd gotten to damp heaves, someone grabbed the back of her tunic and dragged her up and away from the puddle.

There was a smear of vivid blood-green on the side of the tower. Her head hurt. This was probably connected, but she couldn't quite grasp how.

Released, she dropped down to her knees again, with the world spinning.

"The admiral," Hakeev said, "has kindly offered to give you a position on his ship, if command of this one is... too much for your skills. Do you wish to continue commanding this ship?"

She swallowed. Coughed. Gagged and nearly had the heaves again. Found words. "I... I serve the Tal Shiar, sir. Y-your command, sir."

He crouched down beside her. "And if I order you back up that tower?"

"Your command, sir." _Tlhei nnerhai, rekkhai._ Proper pronoun. Proper address. Proper words. Proper, proper, proper.

"Or I order you back up there, to shoot him?"

"Your command, sir." With a probable delay for more damp heaves in the lift.

Hakeev stood. "And if you remain upon that observational craft, you would be grateful?"

She was sick of gratitude. Sick of this incomprehensible game. Sick from her aching head to her empty, twisting stomach. "Yes, sir. Your command, sir." _Ie, rekkhai. Tlhei nnerhai, rekkhai._

"Show me, Arrhae."

He couldn't mean the gratitude of bedrooms... not him, in public. Not after she'd been throwing up. Something else, it had to be something else. She tried turning, on her hands and knees, and even that failed her; she swayed and couldn't catch herself before she fell on her cheek in the dirt and grass. And she couldn't push herself up before he'd put a boot on her shoulder and pinned her there. She mouthed _rekkhai_ again, but didn't say it.

"Tell me who holds your loyalty."

"You, sir." Easy orders, thank the Elements.

"And who you serve."

"You, sir."

"And what you would do for me."

"Anything, sir. Your command, sir."

"Anything." He sounded contemplative. "Get up."

She tried. He hadn't removed his boot from her shoulder, and she scrabbled a moment in the dirt before she realized what was preventing her. After a few heartbeats, feeling very clever, she began pushing herself backwards, away from him. The pressure on her shoulder went away. She shoved herself onto her hands and knees, realized the gravity had become problematic, and crept to the tower to use it as a guide while she got a knee up, and used that to push herself standing.

It was all very complicated. She leaned against the wall, squinting in the light, and tried to turn towards her guardian. "Y-your command, sir," she repeated.

He strode over, blurring at the edges. Reached out towards her face, then thought better of it. "Tch, Arrhae, you're filthy."

"My—my apologies, sir."

He was looking at her, but she couldn't tell what his expression was. Unfair. Voice far too loud, he said, "If you want that ship, my dear ward, fly it into orbit again."

She took breaths, too deep for panting but close to it, and found no words for the sense of disbelief and unfairness. She made herself look toward where she thought the ship was. It was still there. Good. "Your command, my guardian," she said, and pushed away from the wall.

She didn't fall down. She took another step, and stayed mostly upright for it. Fixedly, slowly, she lurched and staggered, one stride at a time, for the ship's ramp.

She passed figures in uniform. Couldn't tell which ones. She stopped at the base of the ramp and slurred, "We. Launch." Then she addressed herself to the problem of an inclined surface.

Really, she thought, it was quite to her credit that she made it halfway up the short ramp before it defeated her and she fell. But she fell forward, and that meant she could push herself up on hands and knees till she got to the open hatch, and then there was something to grab and steady herself to standing.

The narrow corridor was equally beneficial, letting her bounce a shoulder off each side as she walked, or catch herself before she toppled.

She got to the bridge, and then sprawled on the piloting console. A bit of contemplation of the logistics put the appropriate part of her in the piloting _chair_ , and she started fastening the safety harness so she wouldn't slide out of it.

Then she flicked the intercom. "Engineerin'."

There was a silence, and Arrhae squinted at the switch. Blurry, but no, that was the right one. She shoved at it again. "Engineerin'. Respond."

" _This is insane!_ " snapped a voice over the comm.

"I. Will follow. My orders," Arrhae told it. "Be on the ship. Or not." She stared at the console for a bit longer, then hit the intercom again. "Someone prepare the engines."

No one replied, and she stared at the console for a while, trying to remember how to call up engineering controls to the bridge.

To her side, a quiet voice said, "Rae and Tei are getting the engines back up, sir."

Arrhae carefully turned her head to see a blur that resolved into tr'Verih. "I'm flying," she said warningly.

He paused, but said, "Yes, Commander."

After a bit, she thought to say, "You... could leave. Admiral might approve."

"Or I might get shot by that fellow with the Director, like he threatened to shoot tr'Ronu in the leg if he didn't get back on the ship."

That seemed to expect a response. Arrhae said, "Huh."

Behind her, a familiar voice — tr'Dreth, probably — said, "We're all back on the ship and the hatch is sealed, sir." He sounded nervous.

"Good." It would have been inconvenient to try to make orbit with the airlock open. She frowned at her console. "Tr'Vi... Veh..."

"You can call me 'Vir,' Commander." When she looked at him blankly, the pilot said, "Because both my name and clan begin with V, sir. Plural-V."

"Tr'Verih," she said firmly, finally getting it right. "First. Reduce my console controls to piloting. Enlarge control images. They're blurry."

Someone muttered _Elements!_ behind her. She ignored it.

When tr'Verih had done as she asked, reaching past her shoulder to manage it, she said, "Now. Call up the checklist on your console."

"Yes, sir." He did.

"Good. Now. Call up. Secondary piloting... thing." She put a hand to her forehead and pulled it away again, wincing.

"Sir," said a female voice. "There's blood all down your face and you can't even _walk_. Let Vir take us up!"

"I can fly on instruments," she replied. "Don't need the gravity to stay pointing down. Easier than walking."

Now she was sure someone said _Elements!_ back there.

Tr'Verih said, "I have this console configured for piloting now, sir."

Arrhae almost nodded, then thought better of it. "If... if I am about to _crash_. You take control. Not otherwise. Do you understand?"

Even with the blurriness, she thought he looked relieved. "Understood, sir."

"Good. Do... do the checklist." She only had to fly. She didn't have to do the checklist. She just had to listen, and wait for him to say that everything was ready. Which, eventually, he did.

Arrhae said, again, "Good." She thought a moment. "Please strap in, everyone on the bridge, so you do not fall on me."

That was a moan back there. A few moments later, tr'Dreth said, "She's in the corridor, sir. I don't think she's going to fall in."

"This bridge clearly needs more safety harnesses," Arrhae said. She tapped the button that was probably the whole-ship intercom. "Secure for launch."

Then she put her hands on the console.

It was not a good takeoff. The ship wobbled, thudded down once immediately, tapped back and forth on the nacelles — they were strong enough to be landed on, so she wasn't going to worry — and went alarmingly sideways when she tried to get further from the tower.

Someone was producing an interesting stream of muttered profanity, and it was unfair of the universe that she couldn't afford to pay attention to it.

Higher up, the wind started blowing them around, and keeping to the flight plan was... not precisely what she was accomplishing. She managed to say, "Tr'Dreth. Warn tr'Vir... tr'Verih. Of any flyers or ships."

"Yes, sir," the sensors officer said fervently. "I'll... I'll ask flight control for a better path."

"With fewer planets in it, please," she said.

"Yes, sir," he replied, which really he hadn't needed to do.

Her hands started shaking just before the ship made orbit — but she got him there. She tapped the icon that enabled the autopilot's station-keeping program, and said, "Tr'Verih, you have the controls."

He put his hands on his console. Behind her, a female voice said, "Thank the Elements and Powers!"

Arrhae fumbled with her safety harness and got it unfastened. "I'm gonna lie down in Medbay," she said. "My head hurts." And getting to her quarters would take ladders.

"Sir, let me help you," tr'Dreth said, but she was already out of her chair and reeling to the hatch. T'Killis was between tr'Dreth and the hatch, so though he was standing up...

"I'm fine," Arrhae said, pulling the hatch open and rebounding off the hatchway's frame as she misjudged where the opening was. It was a small ship. She wouldn't get lost. Not even if the lights gave out all the way instead of just around the edges.

She wished the lights would stop flickering around the edges.

When she got to the central ladder, though, someone was standing in the ladder-well, blocking her. She blinked up at him, wondering what was missing, till she realized tr'Ronu didn't have the collar on anymore. "Oh," she said, remembering she didn't have the bracelet back, either. She'd worry about that later. He wasn't moving, and without the bracelet, he wouldn't move, so she'd just have to go around through Engineering and hope t'Tei didn't bite her with little venomous teeth.

Someone was saying something behind her as she turned. She wasn't sure if the lights or the gravity went out first.


	37. Khelhaesno

* * *

When she woke up, the lights were still not sure how bright they should be, and the gravity swirled slowly around her. Somewhere far away, people were speaking intensely. The ceiling was unfamiliar. Small, unlit spotlights were recessed into it here and there, and she realized she was in a Medbay. Small. Hers.

Someone was sitting nearby. Holding her hand. Possibly to keep her from sliding away if the gravity stabilized somewhere inconvenient — but wouldn't it have helped as much to put the med-bed's scanner in position?

It occurred to her to turn her head to see who it was.

Eventually, she got around to turning her head, which didn't hurt quite as much as she'd expected, or work as well as she'd expected. Deciphering the blur... "Jaeil," she croaked.

"Commander!" The other woman stood and clutched Arrhae's hand to her soft chest. "You're awake. I'm so glad. Don't move your head!"

"Why... not?"

"The doctor says there's some damage — she put a medical collar on, to help regenerate the bone and nerves. And muscles."

"Doctor?"

"They called one over — she was waiting with us, for the ship to dock. She didn't want to move you till the collar had regenerated things better, because there's really no good way to get people off the med-bed and out the airlock, except going through Engineering and even then, the turn for the airlock would be difficult."

"Flay... designer," Arrhae suggested.

"That's about what she said. But once you're doing better, she wants to take you to the station medical center. Maybe fly you down to a hospital."

After she'd spent so much effort getting _off_ the planet? She refused to cry. She was in command of the vessel. Commanders didn't cry. Commanders... commanded. "No." She looked up at the low ceiling of the Medbay. Thought of people's heights. "Staying. On the ship."

Jaeil looked at her — still a little too blurred to decipher her expression — and gently set Arrhae's hand down on the med-bed. "I'll tell everyone," she promised. "I'll be right back."

The door started to slide shut after her, but was caught by someone.

Voices were more audible. "—can't be serious!" said one. Another went, "Thought she'd say that." A third — the one holding the door — said, "But why?"

A pause. The first voice said, "That's a very good question."

Another hesitation. The second voice, male, said, "I'll explain later, t'Saii. Doctor, if the ship's commander doesn't want to leave the ship, she's not going."

The first voice, highly indignant, said, "Who is second in command here?"

"He's not on the ship," the third person said. Arrhae identified that one as t'Saii, finally. "Going by seniority, the next one down is tr'Dreth, and then it's me."

A loud sigh, and then first-voice — the doctor? — said, "And where is this tr'Dreth?"

"He went onto the station after tr'Ronu," t'Saii replied helpfully. "So if tr'Verih says the Commander is staying on the ship, I say she's staying on the ship."

Another long pause, and then the unfamiliar voice said, "Clearly this is something I do not want to be involved in. Move out of the way so I can attempt to treat her in this wretched excuse for a medical facility."

She closed her eyes for just a moment, and then there was a stranger peering into her eyes with a medical scanner. "I'm surprised there's not more bruising," the woman muttered. "Are you awake again?"

Arrhae said, "That's up to the doctor."

"Well, I'm glad _something_ is. Do you have a _reason_ for insisting you want to stay in this miserable closet?" The woman — clearly the doctor in question, from the voice, with white-gray hair to match her brisk tone — moved around Arrhae and began running a regenerator over a spot on her forehead.

"Yes."

After a bit, the doctor said, "Are you going to tell me what it is?"

Arrhae gazed, unfocused, at the ceiling. "No."

"Elements," the doctor said in disgust. "At least you don't have any internal bleeding."

"Mm?"

"I don't think it was 'falling over a chair' and neither did the man who told me that's what happened. But it's just bruising. Don't eat anything that will stress your system, for a few days."

The exact details of what had happened on the ground... blurred, much as everything else did when she looked at it just now. "I don't remember." Perhaps she'd fallen, trying to climb...? Or... she recalled thinking something about the gravity going bad again. Perhaps she'd tried to get to her quarters and the gravity had come back on partway through.

"With the amount of neural trauma I found, I'm not surprised. Well, you can ask that handsome pilot of yours for the details, since he did most of the talking. Maybe he'll tell _you_ the truth." The doctor frowned at the door — now closed — and bent close to Arrhae's face... No, her ear. The older woman murmured "Commander T'Solos, if this is some mutiny from your crew, you should let me get you to the station medical center."

Not bothering to correct the woman's assumption of her rank, Arrhae considered the words. Her thoughts were slow, sticky things, with a tendency to diffuse into murky vapor. But weighing tr'Ronu and third shift against... Softly, she replied, "I. Am safer. Here."

"Then I do not want to be involved with whatever this is." The doctor straightened. "But apparently I am, insofar as you are not capable of going anywhere for some days. But this accursed medical bed doesn't even have proper facilities for putting bedpans where they'd be useful, let alone catheter equipment, so if I can't get you into the station, you'll have to have someone help you to the 'fresher around the corner."

This sounded like some kind of oblique threat. "I can walk," she said.

"They said," the doctor intoned, "that you flew this ship from the ground to orbit. While concussed."

"Yes."

"And your reason for that insane stunt? Because if you don't have one, I believe I really should relieve you of duty until you are _not_ concussed."

Arrhae whispered, "I had orders. Me. Flying. No one else."

"Did the person giving them know that you had a concussion?"

She closed her eyes. "He knows everything."

That silenced the doctor. Or perhaps Arrhae had just fallen asleep again. When she opened her eyes, the doctor was gone and t'Saii was sitting by her, hands over the one of hers on that rested on that side of the bed.

"This... is not my room," Arrhae said, with her voice raw. It was still hard to turn her head to look at t'Saii, with the collar — medical collar? probably — around her neck.

"Well, till the doctor says otherwise, it is, sir," t'Saii told her, with a false cheer. (Arrhae felt very pleased to recognize the insincere tone.)

"I'm... this ship's doctor," Arrhae pointed out. "So that means..."

"That you're staying right here where the _station_ doctor can find you tomorrow, sir."

"Mm." Not like the ship was big enough that she could hide anywhere on it, anyway. She sorted through muzzy memories. "Where's tr'Ronu?"

T'Saii gave that a long pause worthy of any number of motivations. Finally she said, "He got into a fight on the station and he's in the medical center there."

This didn't really surprise her. "Who'd he fight with?"

"Station security doesn't know, sir."

"Mm." She had a feeling she'd want to follow up on that later. But there were so many things she should be paying attention to. "How is Jaeil?"

"Worried about you, sir. She's fine other than that."

"Has... she told..."

"No, sir. Not yet."

So that bit of drama had not yet been resolved. Arrhae wasn't going to ask why not. "How long until I am fit for duty?"

"The doctor's saying a fiveday, sir, if all goes well."

"Do we have orders?"

"No, sir. Ah... Admiral tr'Llhevil did call, yesterday sometime, but tr'Dreth explained... something. And so we don't have orders until Doctor t'Llieth says you're allowed to follow them."

That was all very tangled, and thinking about it was a knot of distress and an odd wistfulness. Or sadness. Or perhaps just fatigue. She closed her eyes again.

It was tr'Verih beside her when she looked over there once more. She was faintly annoyed by how quickly people were coming and going, but realized the fault was likely rooted in her becoming unconscious now and then. The medical collar might be to blame; if it decided there were too many stress-toxins in her system, and especially in the fluid within the spine, it could undoubtedly damp things until she passed out. It was certainly programmed to minimize pain.

Faintly to the ceiling, Arrhae said, "If I asked for a report, could I stay awake for it?"

The pilot moved, his uniform rustling. "Ah, I'm not sure, Commander."

"Well." She closed her eyes for a moment, and when she opened them... still tr'Verih. So she said, "I'm not dead."

"No, sir."

"This means... third shift hasn't been standing watch in here."

His sudden cough sounded rather like a laugh. "No, sir, they have not. We're... we're taking watch-shifts for bridge, in case we do get orders or questions; Engineering to make sure nothing's going wrong there; and here. The rest of the time, people can go onto the station."

"Who stands watch here?"

"Me. T'Saii. Jaeil. D'liir some of the time. Tr'Aeyn sometimes. Dreth's usually on the bridge. Or I am. Or Konra or Jaeil."

"Leaving... Engineering..."

"There's rotations. We've got it sorted, Commander."

"And tr'Ronu?"

Firmly, tr'Verih said, "Still in Spacedock's Medbay, sir."

Maybe he'd be there even longer than she was stuck here, and they'd be able to leave him for a while. That would be lovely. Arrhae let the smile curve her lips just a little. "Thank you for the report, tr'Verih," she managed, and this time knew she was falling asleep.


	38. Thalk-Hiafvarlai

* * *

The next days were a haze. Doctor t'Llieth went on a rant about dehydration (which was probably hypocritical; artificially triggering water-conservation mode, a biological leftover from a desert-world, was common military practice), but at least pronounced that Arrhae could go to the lower crew 'fresher.

The doctor also provided a soft, loose outfit that was all catchloop fasteners and drawstrings, and advised her to wear it because her uniform was filthy: slept in for days, full of grounder dirt, smelling of juice and alcohol, bloody in spots, one trouser-knee ripped...

Arrhae compromised, making t'Saii provide her with a small opaque bag for all the things hidden in her uniform, and a pair of the tighter uniform leggings. She was already impaired; putting herself in clothing that was _easy_ to remove... No. No more than the shirt.

The dirty uniform went to the 'fresher's tiny laundry unit, and she wiped herself off with a washcloth and water from the sink before emerging.

(The neck-sheathed blade was uncomfortable to lie on, but she put it back on under the shirt.)

The doctor ranted about her standing up too long, but Arrhae passed out once back on the medical bed, which was a very effective way of ignoring people.

Half the crew continued to keep watch beside her bed, on a schedule that she couldn't easily track. She was moderately sure that she would have been more aware of matters, and less prone to falling asleep, if not for the medical collar's meddling. But when she complained about it, Jaeil said that the doctor had informed everyone that yes, the commander would be sleeping a lot, and yes, it was the collar, and taking the collar off would extend recovery at _least_ another fiveday, and everyone was lucky that Doctor t'Llieth didn't just change the timing to a month after all.

From what little Arrhae could tell, Jaeil and tr'Verih's self-appointed "Watch over Arrhae" shifts meant the pair had lacked opportunity for Jaeil to reveal the pregnancy. And perhaps Jaeil was of the opinion that the universe should contain only one bit of drama at a time, and Arrhae's infirmity took priority.

Arrhae wouldn't argue with that. Elements knew the situation would probably require _her_ to step in somehow, and she was in no condition to deal with it.

She was allowed to sit up occasionally on the fourth day, with the med-bed adjusted appropriately, and actually observed a changing of her "guard," where Jaeil and tr'Verih swapped off. Arrhae's vision had finally cleared — after nearly a day of wearing some medical contraption over her eyes and most of her forehead — and she marked the tired expressions of her crew.

As tr'Verih sat, she said, "I wish I dared get to my quarters. I could lock the door."

"And Doctor t'Llieth would have us docked for another tenday, sir. Besides, we're here to make sure you can get anything you need."

"And to keep third shift from smothering me in my sleep."

He rubbed his face. "I think they're smarter than that."

Softly, eyes focused somewhere past the closed door, she said, "They would fare no better than I, if they deprived him of a resource."

"I... think they realize that, sir."

She almost asked how much the crew had seen, but decided against it. If she left those questions un-said, they could all pretend it had never happened.

Instead, she said, "If I could be brought a pad with... with medical information, I suppose..."

Tr'Verih said, "I'll get you one after I swap with tr'Aeyn, Commander."

She gave a tiny nod. "Thank you. And since I am only permitted to sit upright for limited durations, I should save that for when I have something to read." She moved her head to look for the side-controls on the med-bed.

Tr'Verih took the hint and pressed the button that lowered the upper portion of the bed back to horizontal. "Maybe sleep a little more? The doctor said the collar works best when you sleep."

"You've an entertainment pad stored here, mm?" She lifted an brow at him as the bed flattened, then closed her eyes. "All right."

For once, it took her a few moments to drift off. It was probably a good sign.

Surprisingly, when she woke, it was t'Saii beside her, not tr'Aeyn. Further, the engineer was apparently asleep herself, with her curled forelock dangling down past one eyebrow. The promised pad was tucked between Arrhae and the wall.

It was a bit awkward to get the pad activated without using the hand that was slightly under t'Saii's forehead, but Arrhae managed by propping the device on her hip. Further, she managed to get it to talk to the medical bed's records.

Naturally, she called up her own data.

Bruising on the face; she remembered that. Concussion, clearly, and not just because the doctor had mentioned it several times. Some burst capillaries in the eyes, unsurprisingly. A head-wound, abraded; a memory of green blood on the tower wall flashed past. Pinched nerves in the spine, especially near the head, and assorted other neck damage associated with whiplash. Abdominal bruising, just below the ribs — and that gave her pause. She didn't remember being kicked, or hit in the stomach.

That seemed to be the extent of things, which was a terribly short list for how incapacitated Arrhae felt. The doctor had made a number of other scans, ruling out other kinds of assault — thank the Universe that Admiral tr'Llhevil had been amenable to the least detectable of "apologies" — and written no assumptions about the incident that had caused the damage.

Sadly, though she could get into the crew records, no one had bothered to send tr'Ronu's to the ship. Thus she had no idea what _he_ had run into. She sighed.

"Mm? Sir?" At her other hand, t'Saii lifted her head.

"How badly injured was tr'Ronu?"

"Ribs, mostly. Dislocated shoulder and fingers, and a couple of bronzed eyes, but the broken ribs are what's taking the time, I hear." The engineer's tone was cool but muffled as she rubbed at her face.

"Is everyone else on the ship all right?" Arrhae said, with a suspicion brewing at the edges of her mind.

"Yes, sir. Third shift and Rae are subdued, but they're not hurt."

"And tr'Dreth?" Whom tr'Verih had said was standing watches on the bridge, but not over Arrhae's bed.

"He's fine, sir. Well, subdued too, but I think we're all a little on edge." T'Saii attempted to smile. "You're recovering well, though, the doctor says."

That didn't mean that none of "her" crew were recovering from administering a little unofficial correction to tr'Ronu, but if so, t'Saii wasn't admitting to it. Not even in the form of "tr'Dreth bumped into a door and got a bruise."

Arrhae tapped on the medical data again. "It says I had abdominal bruising, some internal but not enough for true bleeding. I don't remember how..."

"I, ah... I was on the station, sir."

"Yes. True." Something was chewing unpleasantly in the back of her mind, but she pushed it away. "Can you raise the bed for me so I can read more easily? It's that, or set it to audio."

"You're to stop if it gives you a headache, Commander," t'Saii warned, pressing the buttons and steadying Arrhae as that end of the bed lifted.

"Believe me, I shall." She shifted her weight and navigated to other topics in the pad — such as treatment of concussions.

T'Saii put her head back down after a while, resting it up against Arrhae's hip. When she started near-snoring, Arrhae paused to make a memo about getting a hammock into the Medbay. The medical bed _did_ have webbing to try to protect a patient during low-grav or if likely to crash, but if someone wanted to be close to the patient and get a nap as well... A hammock would be the sensible thing.

Naps might be, as well. She wriggled a little and settled her chin down against the medical collar that was more a monitor now than actually dispensing minor drugs and therapeutic neural impulses. But while closing her eyes and drifting was possible, true sleep eluded her.

Which was why she heard the door slide open.

Arrhae slitted her eyes; it was probably just someone coming to relieve t'Saii, but practicing at vigilance and paranoia was never a mistake.

Something was wrong about the form of the person moving into the room. Too short, not the right shape...

With her fingers curled and ready to fling the pad into someone's face, Arrhae lifted her head.

T'Tei, partway into the room, froze. "Uh, sorry to wake you, sir," she said, with that awkward smile. "I just needed to borrow t'Saii."

"I see." Arrhae watched the venomous little engineer for a moment, then looked down at the quarter-human one, who apparently hadn't wakened.

Though tapping her ear or ruffling her hair would give a chance to actually touch those alien ringlets, it seemed overly personal. Arrhae shook t'Saii's shoulder instead.

"Mmfv'll?" came the decidedly sleepy response.

"T'Tei is asking for assistance," Arrhae said.

"Mm? Where's Rae? Or D'liir?"

T'Tei said, "It's too complicated for them. The upgraded parts came in for the cloaking system. I need someone to help balance everything, and it's fiddly to get set up."

T'Saii sat up and stretched. "D'liir could handle it if you didn't needle him."

"Well, I can't help it if the man acts like a bag of laundry for mending," t'Tei complained.

"Fine, fine. Send him in here and I'll go get some coffee to wake up."

Heading out, t'Tei said, "That alien brew is bad for you, you know."

"Only if I inhale it," t'Saii called after her.

Arrhae said, pensively, "I had meant to see if there were more replicator patterns for 'coffee,' when next we docked here."

"Don't worry about it, sir. D'liir actually found a bunch of additive syrups and powders that are supposed to go with it. While I was with Jaeil, he was spending his time going through all the replicator patterns he could find, and had the good idea of checking the Turkanan sub-files. So we've got replicator patterns for stuff, and he got me a few packets of spices."

"Perhaps you should introduce him to your grandmother — make a respectable man of him," Arrhae said, amused.

T'Saii sputtered, coughed, and eyed her in surprise. "Er?!"

She tipped a hand outward. "He brings you coffee-flavorings, yes?"

T'Saii held up a finger, opened her mouth, closed it with her finger still upraised, thought a moment, and said, "This is true, and if I were going to bring a man home to grandmother, this has definitely elevated him in my eyes."

Alas, before Arrhae could follow through on the implicit _however_ , the door slid open again, and D'liir himself said, "T'Tei wants us to trade?"

"Yes. Thanks," t'Saii said, and slipped out with haste.

At the door, D'liir peered in at Arrhae. "Do you want me to stay out here, sir?"

"Come in and sit." She beckoned at the chair that t'Saii had left deployed. "And well done with the replicator patterns. My thanks."

He ducked his head in acknowledgement as he came into the room. "I'm glad you're pleased, sir. Have you seen all the new patterns yet?"

"Two flavors of nutrient bars and three of the drinks," she said. "I presume you got more than that, but my interests have been limited, recently."

He looked uneasy. "Yes, sir. I hope the basic nutrient stuff has been, er, good."

"It has." She eyed him. He fidgeted on the seat. Softly, though trying to avoid any tones of _danger_ , she said, "And what gossip is going around, of the matters that transpired while you were on the station?"

D'liir swallowed hard. "M-mostly that you flew the ship up while, uh, injured, sir. Vir and Aeyn didn't say much else."

"Discretion is good." She settled back again. "If you need to obtain a pad for reading, I doubt I'm going to need anything for a few minutes."

His eyes shifted over to the door, nigh-shaved head slightly bowed. "Rae's in a mood, sir. I think I'll stay here." He added, "Safer."

_Safer for me, or you?_ Arrhae wondered. "All right. I'll just rest my eyes for a while, if you've no gossip to chat about."

"No, sir. Gossip's bad for me, sir."

"Keen ears, closed mouth," she murmured, faintly amused, and rested her eyes.


	39. Ehlrhir

* * *

On the sixth day of bedrest, Doctor t'Llieth begrudgingly approved Arrhae for climbing ladders _slowly and carefully_ , deep-space piloting, light physical exertion, and non-critical mental tasks. She was _not_ cleared for heavy exertion, including brawling; anything that could make the ship blow up if she got it wrong; landing, taking off, or docking with anything; reading so much that she gave herself a headache; or putting down mutinies.

Arrhae herself sat upon the med-bed, hands folded in her lap, and looked as alert and competent as she could. She smiled politely at the part about putting down mutinies and murmured that she hoped that would not be necessary.

Doctor t'Llieth gave her a sharp look that suggested there was a rant behind the elderly woman's teeth, but she didn't deliver it. Instead, she said, "Elements know I tried!" and then a begrudged, "Good hunting," before stalking off the ship.

Much as Arrhae would have liked to order the ship undocked immediately, before tr'Ronu could return — she wasn't sure when that would be — she supposed she would need orders first.

Much as she would have liked to have asked for tr'Ronu's reassignment... She still couldn't ask Admiral tr'Llhevil, as he would still undoubtedly wish a favor in return, and she was by no means going to ask Director Hakeev for _anything_.

And much as she would have liked to have stayed sitting... This was the Medbay. Not her quarters. And the ladder was right there.

Also right there was tr'Aeyn, who kept his own counsel, kept a polite distance from her, and kept within sight or quick earshot.

Arrhae was not going to curl up into a little ball in front of any of her crew. Which meant her quarters. Which meant...

The ladder was right there.

Climbing the ladder was unpleasant — though less due to her days of bedrest weakening her and more because of a newfound mistrust for her own abilities. Tr'Aeyn lurked at the bottom, once calling up, "When you get to the second floor, shall I come around and help you off the ladder?"

She called down, "I'm just taking it slowly and carefully, as Doctor t'Llieth instructed." Then she gritted her teeth and refused to hurry herself, either, out of foolish pride.

Once she was onto the second crew level, and carefully pacing to her door, tr'Aeyn followed her up the ladder much more quickly.

She leaned on the wall beside her door and contemplated it for long enough that tr'Aeyn came over to ask, "Is something wrong, sir?"

"It's been days since I was in my quarters." She sighed, head tipped against the wall. "If something explodes and I do not survive, just have the ship towed away from the station and implode it."

"I'm sorry, sir, but if anything like that happened, I might be too busy slitting my own throat."

The absolutely flat delivery made her lips twist in an ironic smile. "Wise man." She put her hand to the lock, let it recognize her, and slid the door open.

Everything was as it should have been. It was terribly reassuring, and she forced herself to treat the place as if it had been open to the most sly, vicious pranksters at the academy. Tricorder, checked, and then used to check everything else: cabinets, the containers within them, her 'fresher, her computer, her bed, the webbing that t'Saii had installed for it...

Tr'Aeyn watched from the door, and eventually said, "Shall I get your bed set up, sir?"

"I'm probably capable, but as it would be shameful indeed to overbalance and knock myself unconscious on the wall..."

He didn't chuckle, but did come and deploy the thing for her. "I'm sure the doctor would still like you to lie down as much as possible, sir."

"Understood," she said wryly. "I think you can go off-duty now?"

He shrugged. "Yes, sir." He left, letting the door slide shut behind him, and Arrhae reached out and locked it.

Then she carefully crawled onto the bed and over to the deployed desk, with the integrated monitor and her own computer. The latter had, as expected, days of logs recorded. She set up a transcript-scan for keywords — her name or "the commander," to start — and tapped over to the records of everything that had been sent from the ship.

She found what she was looking for early on.

She'd gotten them to orbit, with tr'Dreth making many a comment to the flight controllers. Then, shortly after that, tr'Verih had arranged to dock with the station, and requested that a medic be waiting. Tr'Dreth had, then, asked for T'Saii to be informed of the ship's return.

Doctor t'Llieth had routed a contact through the ship, telling the station medical center to stand down on preparing a bed. She had also made some choice comments about lunatic ship-loving commanders with more luck than anyone deserved.

Arrhae found that part... hurt, oddly. Surely she'd deserved _some_ luck, after that entirely unexpected beating. She'd been given no hints, no guidance... If he'd known of the few small things she _had_ kept away from him — mostly Jaeil, t'Saii, and D'liir — then he would have told her. The hole had been dug quite deep enough to push her into it. Punishing her for it without letting her know that there was _nothing_ he could not discover...

It didn't _fit_.

To make her crawl... then tell her to fly, with the unspoken _or_ being to crawl all her days thereafter... But he had put her on the ship in the first place. He had _wanted_ her on it, when she was leery of her scanty experience. If he had not wanted her to go onto it, would he not have had her claimed at the station anyway?

If tr'Ronu had been the beneficiary of that scene, so he might report it to his patron — or that it might go to his patron's patron, or so on, up some chain of patronage she didn't know... If he had been the one meant to see that, why would the Director have forced tr'Ronu back onto the ship? Why not benevolently take him under-wing?

Why endanger the entire ship? If it had crashed in Admiral tr'Llhevil's fields, wouldn't that have destroyed whatever favor the Director had wanted in the first place?

...was that favor _only_ to put Arrhae into command? So that if the ship was lost, the connection was meaningless? But why risk her, then, for no reason?

Test... _trust_...?

She curled up on the bed and clutched the back of her head, ill and as disoriented as she'd been when the concussion had ruined her sense of balance. She'd never known the Director to behave without some reason, if only the reason of keeping the household properly wary of his anger. But there was no sense to the two halves of that beating.

Unless it had not been for her sake. Trust, then, that she would not crash the ship, and that the lesson would be imprinted on someone else. The disorientation lessened, though her stomach still roiled and burned.

She was trying to think who the real target might have been when the computer chimed.

Immediately, she sat up and smoothed down her hair before reaching to tap it. She hadn't heard from him—

The image on the screen was that of Admiral tr'Llhevil. He was in uniform this time, but still held a wineglass in his hands. Less, she thought, to drink from and more to give him something to occupy his fingers.

" _Arrhae. I've been informed you've been cleared for duty._ "

"Sir," she said, saluting with fist to shoulder and inclining her head. "Less than three hours ago. I have been reviewing matters that happened while I was indisposed."

His expression was odd. " _My servants reported blood at the base of the tower._ "

She swallowed, and felt chilled. Perhaps she'd gone pale; an upsetting reaction. "My apologies, sir."

Softly, he asked, " _Whose blood?_ "

Again, she had to swallow to give herself time to get the words out. "Likely mine, sir. My apologies."

" _Someone nearly crashed the ship._ "

Her throat was tight, as she realized that no matter the reality, Admiral tr'Llhevil thought she had _two_ masters. His authority had provided the ship, but he had not relinquished all claims to it. "I was told to take the ship to orbit, sir," she said, and bit down on further explanations.

" _Did you know I was still on the balcony?_ "

"My apologies, sir. I did not want you to be inconvenienced."

" _I see. And so you are beaten without a scream that I might have heard. And once in the ship, you do not think to contact me._ " He sounded... angry. He gripped the wine-glass as if it might keep him from doing worse.

He might have said, with equal anger, that planets had gravity. Arrhae could only look at him in what was, truly, befuddlement. Only habit could pull a "Yes, sir" from her, and she felt the tone was more bewildered than bland.

" _Was it 'inconvenience,' or did you think I could do **nothing**?!_" he demanded, setting down the glass.

Perhaps Admiral tr'Llhevil had been the intended student for the Director's lesson? For, surely, what _could_ he have done? Nothing. And now he was informed that the toy he held a passing fancy for... could be taken from him. Had only ever been lent to start with. Was not _his._

And perhaps an unnecessary reminder to Arrhae, also, not to place trust in Admiral tr'Llhevil.

But even this possibility left her facing a man upset for reasons she was only guessing at — and without guidance from the Director. Once again.

" _Well?!_ " he demanded. " _Have you no answer? No clever words?_ "

She wished she was back in Medbay, deemed to be recovering and not to be spoken to of any weighty matters. Which sparked an idea. "I... sir... No. I had no thought that you would be other than inconvenienced if you became aware of what happened. I did not wish to cause you annoyance." In truth, she had not thought of him at all; he would have been useless, or worse than useless, trying to interfere. But if his anger now was baffling, then perhaps it was well enough to be baffled openly.

" _You did not even think I had some interest in what might happen to that ship? To my fields?_ "

"By that time, sir, I was not thinking clearly," she admitted.

" _I should relieve you of duty, have you delivered to my ship, and whip you like a scullery-slave!_ "

If he had intended to portray himself as a possible savior, to whom she should be appropriately grateful... that was not the image to paint. She pulled her spine straight, wished she had thought to change into her uniform tunic instead of the soft one the doctor had given her, and said, "Sir. I did not crash. No one was injured while I was at the helm. And while you may relieve me of duty, anything further must be arranged through my superior officer in the Tal Shiar."

" _Because you are still his creature?_ "

Her pose was perfect, though kneeling on her bed. Her voice was as cold as forgotten moons. Icy flames ran through her spine. "I serve the Empire and the Tal Shiar. Sir."

He picked up the wine-glass and gulped from it. Swallowed. " _You are fortunate I'm no lackey of the Fleet Commander. I think she would consider the Fleet came before the Tal Shiar, not subject to it._ "

"A disagreement for the Senate floor, then. Sir."

He glared. " _And to think you do **taentre'dhraeu** with that **ih'Yyaio** mouth._"

And to think she'd been considering him more favorably, while she'd worked for his body's release, and after. "Sir. I await the orders for this ship."

He took another gulp of wine, held it in his mouth, and swallowed. " _There is another set of observational satellites. I'll have the coordinates sent. The same instructions as last time._ "

"Understood, sir." She gave him another fist-to-shoulder salute, another inclination of her head. When she lifted her gaze, he'd cut the connection.

She rested her elbows on the desk's surface, and propped her forehead in her hands. Her stomach still cramped and now she had that headache which the doctor would probably not approve of.

But the information would be sent, and she should find out what the coordinates were. She crept off the bed, walked to the door, and out it — locking it behind her — and crouched to open the hatch down to the bridge. Then she called, "Who's on duty?"

Tr'Dreth's voice came back, "Sir!" A moment later his face appeared in her field of view, looking up. "Sir, if you don't need to come down..."

"Our orders should be coming in. More observational satellites to relieve of their boring data, but I don't know the coordinates yet."

Tr'Dreth made a warding gesture at her. "Stay there, sir!" He went out of view again, and there were little sounds of a computer being helpful. Then a pause. He returned to look up at her. "They're along the Andorian Coalition's border with us, sir. We're supposed to leave at the beginning of fourth shift, tomorrow."

"Better than immediately." She sighed and cradled her head in one hand. "If you don't want me climbing ladders, can you bring me a painkiller? The admiral didn't like my flying."

"Sir," tr'Dreth said, "I don't think _anyone_ liked your flying."

"No," she admitted. "But he's the one who was chiding me about it."

He grimaced. "Stay there, sir, and I'll get the painkiller. You can come down if there's an emergency."

Arrhae creaked a chuckle at him, and flipped her hand in a dismissal of sorts.

Tr'Dreth didn't take very long before he returned with the pill, and water, and as she didn't much care if she were poisoned just now, she took it without scanning it first. Then she thanked him to make sure the Elements would be properly offended if he'd betrayed her with some toxin, closed the hatch, and returned to her room to continue reviewing logs.

The very next one she got was tr'Verih's, sourced from the bridge, and she correlated it to the same time as one of the bugs' transcripts.

Only Tr'Verih and tr'Aeyn had been on the bridge. The call had been to Spacedock security — Fleet side, not the side she'd have contacted. It had been routed through to a man tr'Verih knew.

And then, amid an exchange involving fond nicknames and a few nostalgically lewd comments, he'd asked for tr'Ronu to be put into the station's Medbay in a painful but non-fatal way. His explanation had been, " _Man tried to mutiny against the commander. I don't want that sticking to me. He's got too much Earth in his head, and needs some of it graveled._ " Wonder of wonders, the security officer had agreed.

Then, while Arrhae blinked at the recording, tr'Verih contacted the station medical center. Upon being routed around _there_ , he wound up talking to a sleek-voiced woman — with whom he _also_ shared fond nicknames and lewd nostalgia. To her, he mentioned that if tr'Ronu happened into the place, perhaps it would be best if his injuries took some time to treat. At least a fiveday. And again, his contact had agreed.

Arrhae moved to the transcript and accessed the recording from the camera she'd put in... little over a fiveday ago. In it, tr'Verih sat back in his chair and swiveled it around to look at tr'Aeyn. The sensors officer said, " _All right, I'm impressed._ "

The pilot shrugged. " _If I've slept with half the station, I might as well get a favor now and then._ "

" _Had you ever asked for favors from them before, Vir?_ "

Another shrug. " _Not those. Hadn't needed anything._ "

Tr'Aeyn simply shook his head, and the conversation moved to the matters of scheduling.

It was probably treasonous how quickly Arrhae erased that recording, the transmission log, and the transcript.

After a few heartbeats, she went to wipe the transmission log from the ship's computer as well — only to find someone had already done it.


	40. Tlhei Nnerhai, Rekkhai

* * *

To Arrhae's vast disappointment, tr'Ronu was released from the station Medbay in time to board the ship. She waited in the corridor between the bridge and Engineering, and watched as he plodded around the airlock corner. He stopped once he saw her.

Coolly, she said, "Do you agree with the doctor's assessment that you will be fit to fly when it is your shift?"

"I can fly," he said, with the pronoun of equals. He flexed his fingers uncertainly, though.

"I have been reminded," she said pleasantly, using the pronoun superior, "that there are people to whom one may not raise a hand. No matter the provocation."

His expression became unsettled, just for a moment.

She slowly began to walk forward, keeping her expression Vulcan-diffident, gaze holding his. Still with the voice of false pleasantries, she said, "For example, one's superior officer." And that was all the time and diversion she needed to reach out, at less than arm's length, and put a hand on his torso. If she'd read the medical reports correctly, it was right above where one broken rib had nearly punctured a lung. Still keeping her eyes on his.

He flinched and took half a step backward.

She smiled, leaving her hand up and only drawn back enough to highlight that he'd retreated. (And that it was in position to block a punch... was not very obvious.)

They were both very, very aware that tr'Ronu had retreated.

Softly, so, so very gentle and polite, she said, "And he leaves me in command of this ship."

Tr'Ronu didn't close the distance again. He even shifted his weight towards the foot behind him, and not in ways that seemed likely to enable lunging or kicking.

"What do you say to your superior officer?" she asked, as if she were giving a friendly prompt to a small child. When he didn't answer, she tilted her head just a little, and breathed out, "You say, _Tlhei nnerhai, rekkhai._ Do you understand?"

He swallowed. She sensed his jaw and throat move with it, though she was watching his eyes most fully. He was silent, though, long enough that she was about to prompt him again — but then grated out, "Sir."

She thought of demanding he repeat the phrase, _your command, sir_ , but perhaps this was victory enough. So she tilted her head a little more, indulgently, and said, "Go to your quarters and rest."

Another hesitation, his weight shifting as if he thought about going through Engineering. But the central ladder was right beside them. He had to brush by her, to get to it, and she didn't give way, even though she had to tip her head to dodge the shoulder-point of his uniform.

He gave her another wary look as he climbed, and she stood there with a tiny smile, watching him, till he was out of her sight.

Then she went to the bridge and sat herself down at the tactical chair, stretched out her legs, and rested her elbows on the chair-arms. Beside her, in the pilot's seat, Konra eyed Arrhae as if she might tear someone's throat out.

With a side-long glance, Arrhae said, "Tr'Ronu thinks he'll be able to pilot when it's his turn. I doubt we'll have to cover for him, save perhaps if there's some tricky maneuvering to do."

"Yes, sir," Konra said, and openly shifted as far from Arrhae as her chair would permit — which was less than a finger's length, but made a point.

It was a point Arrhae could live with, and she merely continued to laze in the tactical seat, smiling, until it was the beginning of fourth shift and time to undock.


	41. Hiish'le

* * *

The timing on the assignment was not more relaxed, despite having had more time to start. Indeed, they were forced to run without cloak for much of the initial part of the journey — going too fast generated too much of an energy signature for the cloak to hide, even upgraded as it had been.

T'Saii reported that the upgrades made it possible to get above warp three, while cloaked, more reliably. In theory, anyway. In practice, the entire system had become more finicky and power-hungry. From her hidden microphone, Arrhae learned that t'Raedheol was inclined to curse and accept the mess, while t'Tei cursed and advocated for tearing it out and replacing it with the older parts again. D'liir, meanwhile, kept his head down and followed the lead of whichever engineer had last talked to him. And t'Saii had taken Arrhae's "do your best" to heart; she made grim comments about finding out why it wasn't working according to theory, and followed through on analyzing the Engineering power-relays and such.

Despite no longer having to stand watch over Arrhae, Jaeil was apparently finding excuses to not have a private talk with tr'Verih about the pregnancy he was half-responsible for. As privacy was difficult to come by on the ship even if you _didn't_ take Arrhae's surveillance devices into account... Well, Jaeil wouldn't be showing the pregnancy much by the end of this assignment, so there was presumably time.

Tr'Verih made no comment about Arrhae's implied usurpation of responsibility for the beating tr'Ronu had suffered, though those microphones of hers revealed when the gossip reached him. (It had been through Konra, who'd been listening from the bridge. As Arrhae had suspected she would.)

And tr'Ronu himself...

Every meeting was a strain, though Arrhae refused to show it. She'd decided to use the incident with the Director as a weapon: no shame, no fear, only the implication that it had been _nothing out of the ordinary_. The implication that if he would do such to her, in front of others, beneath the admiral's nose, and no one raising a hand against him...

Well, and what would he do to anyone lesser who annoyed him?

So when tr'Ronu used the wrong pronouns, she murmured, "You have so soon forgotten? I was taught better manners when I was a child."

When he finally remained defiant after such reminders, she said, "Come, now, tr'Ronu. Which of us do you think is more use to him?"

That, and variations upon it, kept him cowed for some time.

She reported as much, in terse and bland sentences, that went through the more general chain of command that most Tal Shiar-path enarrains would use. Though her stomach was ice every time an acknowledgement came back, they were only the nigh-automated ones, and not specifically from the Director.

(He hadn't come for her when the ship had been docked. He hadn't sent other instructions. He hadn't taken the ship from her after she'd done what he'd bade her do. She recited it to herself as Vulcans reputedly recited their meditative mantras, when she woke from ill dreams in the night, curled into a corner of her bed.)

To her annoyance, though t'Tei was apparently wary around Arrhae directly, the third-shift engineer didn't stop instigating little frictions between everyone else in the crew — which included encouraging tr'Ronu in his grievances. T'Tei never mentioned Arrhae by name, or even rank, but she was certainly... _supportive_ of his complaints, without ever quite being mutinous herself. (Arrhae saved those records and transcripts, though. Should anything happen to Arrhae? T'Tei and tr'Ronu, conversing, would be the first files to present themselves to the appropriate reader.)

Therefore, it really wasn't a surprise when she was in the eating room, watching t'Saii try to cajole Jaeil and t'Raedheol into trying coffee _with additives_ , and tr'Ronu came stalking in. He had, clearly, worked himself into a proper frame of mind for confrontations, despite there not being any stretch of ship with a good distance for that trick. Thus, Arrhae surmised, he had been talking to t'Tei in Engineering.

The room was cramped, which was why Arrhae had been standing beside the replicator's opening to consume her nutrient drink. It was obvious that anyone wanting to get something would need to come close to her. And it was obvious to her that he would use it as an excuse... which meant she couldn't sidle off politely without it seeming a retreat... which meant he had his excuse.

"In the way again," he growled at her.

"Commanders usually are, yes. Why, if one is thinking of some clever bit of mutiny, one cannot step for risk of treading on a commander."

For some reason, he went sallow-pale, and next had bronzed green spots rising in his cheeks. "Is that an accusation?" he snapped.

"An observation," she said mildly, wondering what the transcriptions would reveal, later. She was still behind in reviewing them all.

"You think you're the only one who _observes_?" he said, looming over her. "You think everyone else is blind?"

She kept her expression calm, even as she assessed where he might strike from, and where she might strike. She'd been improving her speed and accuracy again, in the privacy of her own room, and thought herself much recovered by now. "On a small ship, polite blindness is courtesy."

"It's hard to _ignore_ standing around for an hour while someone's off _imirrhlhhseari_ an admiral!"

Well. And that was the _nei'rrh_ 's poison that had dripped into his ear and festered in his brain, finally pouring out in what was clearly insubordination — and her without any good means of punishing him. So... no shame, not for something so ordinary. "It wasn't an hour," she said, putting the empty mug back into the replicator for recycling. "The admiral wouldn't have accepted less than a few hours for actual _imirrhlhhseri_."

"Bedroom promotion," he accused, slamming his hands onto the wall to either side of her head.

Foolish of him, as it restricted his arm movements to a very obvious range. She hoped her smile conveyed pity for his sheltered life as she said, "And is it that you are jealous?" She reached out to pat his torso, once again just above the most dangerously-broken rib. "I regret, but I believe he prefers girls."

"I—" (and, alas, it was the pronoun of equals, not subordinate to superior) "—am not interested in him!"

Epiphany unfolded softly, like an unfastened tunic falling open. And if it was wrong, still it would wind his words around his feet to trip him. "Again I regret, but unless you have some better ship to give me, I am not interested."

" _Chaghe'sahenen!_ " he hissed, which was (oddly enough) not a denial.

It was strangely easy to be unruffled. "And you can't afford my price. Which means you are insubordinate now." And while he drew breath, she took her hand from his torso and drove her other fist into his side. (For she'd felt he had nothing but a tunic and undershirt on.) And while he was distracted by that, she brought her knee up between his legs in a calculated risk that he didn't _own_ any sort of armor for that area.

He certainly wasn't wearing any, and fell, toppling into the edge of the table — where, sensibly, everyone had already cleared away their drinks.

Arrhae stepped over his uncoordinated legs, towards the door, ignoring the choked curses from the floor. "Tr'Ronu, I will let you explain to fourth shift why you are in the way when they require fastbreak." She nodded to tr'Aeyn — who stepped out of _her_ way — and slipped out of the room, to stride to her quarters.

With a locked door between her and the rest of the crew, listening to the _fhaihuhhru_ that erupted afterwards was... satisfying. T'Saii and Jaeil recounted the bare bones of the incident to fourth shift, who — from the sound of it — hauled tr'Ronu up and berated him. Even t'Raedheol was of the flat opinion that tr'Ronu had apparently gotten concussed as well, and not had it treated.

Of most interest to Arrhae was when tr'Aeyn said, " _I don't know why she **doesn't** kill you. Does she think someone on the ship likes you?_"

(T'Raedheol added, " _Besides t'Killis._ ") 

And tr'Ronu, who had finally gotten his words back, snarled, " _There's more people than live on this ship, you know!_ "

Really, it made a girl want to dig out the interrogation drugs and see if _tr'Ronu_ knew why the Director had ordered him kept alive. 


	42. Talla u'Kraiir

* * *

Even more delightful, the implication that tr'Ronu's jealousy was not for command so much as the commander's bed... reached t'Tei. And appealed to her venomous little mind more than the prior assumptions had, enough to have her chide tr'Ronu for his clumsy flirting.

And true or false or a muddle between, _that_ accusation could send him to a flushing fury when Arrhae simply treated any insult or insubordination as a suitor's petition for attention and patiently rebuffed him. And when he finally raised a hand to her... (while she swiveled in her seat, ready to put the heel of her boot into his gut if he closed) ...it was Jaeil, of all people, who shoved him from the side and snapped, "Are you _twelve_? You know you shouldn't hit girls!"

And it was tr'Dreth, pausing on the ladder-rungs to the second crew level, who added, "Because if you do, they'll get their friends into a pack and ambush you later."

Come to think of it, that actually sounded about right for the boarding school Arrhae had been at, prior to being taken in by her guardian. So she just left her hand near the pistol and smiled sweetly while she stood up and told him, "Helm is yours." Then she left via the ladder as well, on tr'Dreth's heels.

Afterwards, it seemed the entire crew took to needling tr'Ronu about the matter; any complaint of his became an excuse for someone to say: _Elements, are you yearning after the commander **again**?_ (Or sometimes "still?" or occasionally "at a time like this?") Meanwhile, t'Killis went increasingly cold to _both_ Arrhae and tr'Ronu — but as first shift and third shift already interacted very little, it was tr'Ronu who took the brunt of t'Killis' offense.

And the swift and reliable ridicule of the rest of the crew served to do what all Arrhae's threats had not: thrust tr'Ronu into a sullen propriety whenever he was around her.

Arrhae had enough wit not to remark upon that; t'Tei would no doubt adore a chance to make the blade cut both ways, and _Arrhae_ had no wish for any of the crew to start seeing the matter as one deserving match-making. Far better that this dramatic comedy be a one-sided infatuation by a boor, treated as counterpoint to the rest of the play, and not the focus of the production.

Her contentment with the entire situation was only marred a few days before they were to cloak and continue to the border. She had filed the usual reports, and instead of the usual, nigh-automated acknowledgement, had received a recorded communication.

From the Director.

There was really no way to pretend it had gone astray, and thus there was nothing for it but to slow the ship while she went to her quarters to view the thing.

" _Arrhae, my dear ward, I hope that matters are well with you,_ " the Director said as formal opening. He was in civilian clothes, and the background was his bedroom, after dusk had fallen and with only a few lights turned on. His desk-computer's camera had not been able to resolve the image well, and false-color artifacts blurred in and out whenever he moved.

" _I do apologize for not contacting you sooner. There were urgent matters that required great attention, and I wanted time to make a more personal statement of how proud I am of you, my ward. I understand that delay must have concerned you greatly, but I assure you: I have not withdrawn my favor._ "

It was always better when he was pleased with her, of course. When she'd been younger, there had been treats at dinner, or he'd had Karana, the Klingon _hru'hfe_ of his very few household servants, take Arrhae to museums or plays. Sometimes he'd come along as well, though usually to converse with others during intermissions.

Older... and while she'd lost her taste for dinner-sweets, theater performances and concerts still pleased her. Or when she'd exhausted herself in practice, allowed herself to slump over a desk or against a window... he would rub the sore parts of her shoulders and back that she couldn't reach herself.

" _I am aware of your assignment, of course. I will expect a duplicate of your results, delivered personally, as I will wish to compare them to results obtained... through other channels._ " He smiled, which did not work so well as it might have, considering the camera's difficulty in correcting color and brightness.

" _When you return, there shall be some time of liberty for you and your crew. Much as you are fond of that ship, I'm sure you'll be pleased to have some time off it, where doorways are not a constant threat._ " He illustrated that remark by rubbing at his forehead. " _You will, of course, return home for this, when you have no other duties. I find that I miss your presence. Other bodyguards do not know my habits or signals so well._ "

That roiled her gut. Was it a hint that she would be returned to that service, and someone else placed in command of _Fve-Rhi-Sei_? She clenched her fists and listened as the recording continued.

" _I will therefore keep you close, I think — short missions in your little toy._ " And Arrhae exhaled, dizzy, panting, in such a relief that she missed the sense of the next words and had to stop and replay. " _—short missions in your little toy. But short visits home as well. It will not do for Fleet officers to think they command Tal Shiar, or that you are without a patron._ "

And that was a relief, too, if a muddier one.

" _My dear ward, I look forward to seeing you in person, and expressing my great pride in your accomplishments, and discussing certain matters in private._ " (And would that be an explanation? Some confirmation of her guesses, or a revelation of some information she had no piece of?) " _Till then, I do not wish to delay you with detailed messages, out on the border. Again, I hope that matters are well with you, so that they shall be well with me. Good hunting, Arrhae._ "

And the recording ended.

She sat a moment, hands in her lap, before duty forced her to record a reply. Her emotions were a turmoil, and she fell back on the dispassionate mask that generally served her, unsure whether revealing aught else would be of any benefit, or only make him concerned that she was unstable.

"My guardian. I hope this reply finds you well in turn. I thank you for the communication. Without unnecessary details, my situation is indeed acceptable. Certain matters may have resolved sufficiently that they need not come to your attention in the future. While I am pleased to be of use to you in this assignment and ship, I also look forward to enough room to resume my sword-practice when not otherwise occupied with your commands. My regards to the household and Karana, and to you, my guardian."

She reviewed her recording only once before encrypting it and sending it back. Then she told the bridge the ship could be cloaked again and proceed at best speed for the first of the border-satellites.

After that, she deployed her bed and sat cross-legged upon it for a time, unable to think of anything much — save perhaps how unfair it was that the only apology was for the lack of contact, and not for the beating that had taken a fiveday to recover from. Maybe he would apologize for that, if only in some oblique way, once she had finished this assignment and returned to his presence.

Duty and habit reminded her that it was her sleep-cycle. Duty and habit got her undressed, the safety-mesh pulled down to make a tent around her bed, and the lights dimmed. Duty deserted her after that, and habit alone kept her silent as she tried not to cry onto her pillow.


	43. H'rau Bheinuvha

* * *

Protocol on the border-sats was slightly different. First, one approached the area carefully, then scanned for anything that might be lurking around, and only _then_ could one send the encrypted, time-stamped codes that would make the satellite reveal itself. It remained uncloaked for but a few seconds, barely long enough to get a lock on its location. (And should one miss getting a fix on it, the thing would not respond to the original code for three hours.) Then one had to maneuver the ship close to the re-cloaked satellite, and send _another_ code, via a very weak signal that would degrade to unintelligibility after more than a few ship-lengths, to make the satellite disgorge its data.

After the first one, Arrhae found time to speak with Jaeil and confirmed that the star-noise was back. Indeed, from the timing in the data they recovered from the border-sat? It seemed that the odd star behaviors had happened only days before _Fve-Rhi-Sei_ had arrived.

After the third one, Jaeil posited that the effect was "moving" along the border, perhaps five to ten days ahead of them. Perhaps less, depending on what was causing it.

The oddity gnawed at Arrhae's mind, feeling familiar and alarming. She accessed the ship's own general data-records and assigned entertainment, pulling them onto her computer one at a time to run searches that wouldn't be recorded by the ship-computer.

Nothing, nothing, nothing. None of the keywords gave her answers. None provided even hints that might've unlocked what she'd forgotten.

All she felt sure of was that none of them should admit to noticing this pattern — and that the readings were exactly why they were out there gathering in the data. More, that the readings were exactly why _Arrhae_ , Tal Shiar enarrain, was the one commanding the ship.

That part frightened her if she woke late in her sleep-shift. She didn't know if Director Hakeev wanted her to overlook the data... to notice and keep silent... or to notice, keep silent, and _identify the phenomenon_. And guessing... She hated to guess, when the answer might be the difference between keeping this ship-command, or enduring more of his inexplicably violent anger.

She didn't question that Jaeil hadn't found time to talk to tr'Verih, though, for the sensors officer had apparently thrown herself into analyzing the data in every way that Arrhae herself would have wanted, and a few she hadn't thought of till one of Jaeil's data-sticks revealed some new twist.

And the "star-noise" results were on single data-sticks that could be snapped and placed in the replicator for recycling. Arrhae overlaid the files with encryptions that would scramble everything without a code. Then she became more paranoid and added a virus, likewise, that would try to attack a computer that tried to copy the data without both codes and biometric readings from Arrhae herself.

Arrhae desperately wanted to grab Jaeil and present her to the Tal Shiar department responsible for traffic analysis, and let them and Fleet Intelligence argue over who kept her. But as Jaeil seemed to have no ambition — or at least no spine to pursue it — pulling her into such levels that would recognize her talent would only make Jaeil a puppet to whoever could claim her. (Truly, the woman embodied the weakest aspects of Water: yielding, tide-pulled, and though not inconstant, anyone's to capture in a pitcher.) And Arrhae... did not have the power to lay any claim herself. It was all she could do to keep her favored crew away from the Director's attention.

They were nearing the last few border-sats — and closing with the star-noise, according to Jaeil's quiet, deniable reports — when something pinged the sensors. Arrhae was dangling from the ladder, while tr'Ronu fixedly ignored her. Jaeil frowned at the small noise, and focused her attention upon her console.

"Lost it," she said after a moment.

Arrhae asked, "What was it?"

"I thought I'd caught a warp signature, back along the way we came. I couldn't isolate it, though, and now it's gone again."

Coming through the hatch, t'Killis opined, "Probably just a reflection of our own catching up with us."

"I'm not sure it was in our exact track," Jaeil said. She stood up to trade places with the third shift's sensors officer. "But I can't pick up anything else now, and it was some ways away. I suppose it might be a sensor artifact."

"I'll check them when we're done here," t'Killis said, and Arrhae privately raised an eyebrow, since t'Killis _was_ on the lazy side.

Meanwhile, Konra and tr'Ronu traded places as well; since the satellite hadn't been convinced to reveal itself yet, it didn't matter if the pilot was the one who'd been present for its brief flicker.

Arrhae climbed up the ladder to make room, and Jaeil followed her. As the sensors officer slipped past, Arrhae's hand brushed her midsection, and she asked, quietly, "Have you been eating enough?" She hoped so; beneath the uniform and its rough rectangular embossments, the other woman's abdomen had developed a roundness that suggested it wouldn't be able to be hidden for much past their mission.

Ruefully, Jaeil grimaced. "My appetite came back lately, Commander."

"Don't stint yourself," Arrhae said. "I can do more scans later, if you want."

Jaeil put a hand over her belly, thoughtfully. "If you would, Commander? I keep being afraid that if I speak, something will go wrong."

"I'll see to the satellite-hunt, and we should have enough time after that," she said, even though it would cut further into her sleep.

"Yes, Commander!" Jaeil said, and at Arrhae's nod, moved to the eating room.

Arrhae re-opened the hatch and slipped back down the ladder to monitor the process of tickling the satellite into giving up its data.

*****

The satellite after that was normal, though t'Killis, again on duty for it, surprised Arrhae again by reporting more star-noise when she was doing the preparatory scan to ensure no Coalition — or Alliance — ships were lurking about. Arrhae thumped down from the ladder and leaned over the console, ignoring the way t'Killis edged away.

That was definitely star noise. "Low level ion storm?" Arrhae murmured.

"Not quite to that level, sir," t'Killis corrected, chilly and ostentatiously proper. "More like an ion... coughing fit. Could be a small ship hiding near it, though, and we'd not be able to see."

"Would anyone's sensors see past the 'coughing' if ours couldn't see them?"

T'Killis admitted, "Probably not."

Arrhae tightened her lips at the forward display, and mentally counted days. "We don't have a lot of time to waste, and if there are no spies revealed when that star breathes easier, waiting would be called waste and not prudence. Keep a more active scan going while we drain the satellite, and be ready to send it back cloaked and us as well, if you catch anything."

"Yes, sir," t'Killis said, and if the ill things she thought of Arrhae still showed in her voice... she didn't reach tr'Ronu's sullenness, and she didn't argue.


	44. Na Ekhaid Nhrair Ihirvædhleri're

* * *

The penultimate satellite posed a bit more of a concern.

For once, Arrhae sat at the controls, though it was close enough to the end of first shift's duty-period that Jaeil had come down early to stand beside tr'Dreth.

But it didn't take even two sensor officers to see the problem. Outside cameras alone were giving Arrhae a good view of it.

The satellite was flickering in and out of visibility. Worse, it was flickering in a similar fashion across several scanning-bands.

And worst of all, the malfunction meant it was refusing to disgorge its information via comm.

Over the intercom, Arrhae said, "T'Raedheol, relieve t'Saii a little early; I need her on the bridge." She closed the connection so she wouldn't hear any groans from the mess hall.

Shortly after, t'Saii showed up and sat at the tactical console. "Present, Commander."

Arrhae pointed at the display, where she was creeping up on the flickering satellite while tr'Dreth and Jaeil affirmed that it wasn't some kind of trap, laden with explosives. Or at least not laden with any beyond its own small powerplant, anyway. "That's not what it should be doing. Tr'Dreth, shunt the appropriate readings to the tac console?"

T'Saii looked down and said, "Oh. I see what you mean, Commander."

"Someone's going to have to go over there and pull the data out of it manually. And if the cloaking device can be repaired, that should be done. Otherwise... We can't take it in tow without compromising our own cloak, can we?"

"No, sir."

"Then we'll have to blow it up or drag it somewhere reasonably hidden, if we can't fix it."

"You want me to go over there, sir?"

Arrhae shook her head and edged a little closer to the proper location. "The priority is getting the data off it, since we can always blow it up if we need to."

"I should be able to pull data out of it too, sir."

"Except for one thing. Because it's malfunctioning, it won't talk to us over the comm. And because it's malfunctioning, it's not going to let anyone on who doesn't have command codes for it, at least at first."

"Ohhhhhh. You've got them, sir?"

Arrhae's smile was crooked, and she felt as if a shadow lay across her. "Tal Shiar overrides."

The silence on the bridge... suggested that either some of them had all but forgotten which branch of service Arrhae had come from, or no one had wanted to bring it up.

She supposed that after tr'Ronu had stopped challenging her all the time, it might have been easy to stop thinking about her as anything but a Commander who was doing her best, despite being there due to a bedroom promotion.

"Once I'm on, I'll scan the thing up close and perhaps you'll be able to direct me in repairing it. In the meantime, if you could provide some data-solids to copy onto? I'll get tr'Ronu to finish creeping up on this while I get a suit on."

"Yes, sir. I'll get some tools together, too, that you'll probably need if the cloaking device is fixable."

" _Khnai'ru rhissiuy_ ," she said, in full and formal thanks. She flicked the intercom switch again. "Tr'Ronu, come take the helm. I have to go over to the satellite in person, and suiting up will take a little while. No need to waste time."

From the intercom's speaker, tr'Ronu's voice said, " _Understood,_ " and though it had no proper "sir" appended, it was one of his less-sulky tones. So at least that was perhaps going right.

Or perhaps he was going to try to blow her up, in which case she trusted the rest of the crew would tell the story and patron or not, tr'Ronu might end up alive only as an unhappy gamepiece.

If that happened... Well, Arrhae would be dead, of course, and consigned to whatever afterlife existed or not — Director Hakeev had no such beliefs, and would never hang name-flags for his ward. And clan s'Solos probably wouldn't much care for their wayward daughter's equally wayward child.

But there wasn't much Arrhae could do about the matter; waking up tr'Verih, the only other pilot she trusted, would be both unambiguous insult to tr'Ronu, and a sign that she still feared him.

Really, she should have just shot him back on the station when he'd first insulted her, before anyone told her he might be important.

Alas, without time-travel — which was never a good idea, from anything she'd heard — she had to deal with what she had. So she turned the helm over to tr'Ronu when he appeared, as if he were loyal, and went to select a suit in roughly her size.

Suiting up was something she hadn't had much call to do, and she regretted not doing so merely for practice. She had enough of the theory that, going slowly and methodically, she was managing well enough until t'Saii showed up. The engineer then provided some discreet help — especially useful with the helmet — as well as the tools that would probably be needed to fix the malfunctioning cloaking device.

"Remember, sir," t'Saii said, "always have at least one safety line attached at all times. If you're moving between places — like the anchor inside the airlock to the anchor outside it — do the back-and-forth."

Arrhae almost complained at t'Saii's apparent thought that she was someone who took unnecessary risks. On the other hand, while large parts of her concussed flight to orbit were blurred in her memory, enough remained to make Arrhae accept the unnecessary cautions with only a wry nod.

Then it was time to check the helmet's fit, clip the container of data-solids to her suit's belt, and affix the toolbox's tether likewise before she hefted it and stepped to just in front of the airlock. She chin-bumped the speaker-button in the helmet. "T'Saii, ask if we're in position?"

"Yes, sir." She slid past via the ladder-well, trotted the short distance necessary, and opened the hatch there to make her queries. Then she returned. "He says he will be in two more minutes, sir."

"I'll start the airlock cycle, then. You may want to be on the bridge — it'll be easy for me to have an audio channel to it."

"I put a small camera into the toolkit, sir — it's short-range, to broadcast to a ship-display, but it might be able to reach from the satellite."

"If I'm truly lucky, I'll be able to tie the camera into the satellite's communicator, and get the satellite to permit _that_ connection."

"That's just regular luck, sir," t'Saii told her, with a smile. " _Real_ luck will have the problem be something tiny that you can see immediately and prod back into position."

"As you say," Arrhae replied, cheered, and stepped backwards into the airlock.

Then they made sure it was secured from both sides, and Arrhae turned herself around, shuffling in the suit, to press the buttons that started the process of sucking the air into the ship's interior. Next, she affixed the first safety-line from her suit's belt to a ring within the airlock. Then, while the atmosphere thinned, she worked on setting up the suit's audio link to the bridge, with a combination of arm-mounted controls and helmet switches. That rewarded her, shortly, with Jaeil's voice: " _Connection to the bridge established, sir!_ "

"At least this much is going right," she said. "Say when we are in position for me to open the outer 'lock door."

" _Shortly, sir,_ " Jaeil replied. And in the background, a moment later, Arrhae faintly heard tr'Ronu say, " _Got it. Station-keeping... Fvadt, I'll do it myself. I'll not be tortured for the program's glitch._ "

Jaeil relayed the first part, and added, "We're not using the station-keeping program, sir."

"A good choice," Arrhae said, pretending she hadn't heard the pilot's actual words. "It glitches unexpectedly and I'd rather not be squashed between ship and satellite before the program is reset. Opening the outer door now." She pressed the button-sequence for that.

And the doors slid open into vastness. Black, it was, with the pinpoints of distant suns. It might have been a viewscreen's display, but was too sharp, without the color-artifacts even the best screens often had. And she could turn her head, change her view, step to the edge and lean out the airlock, and see the Universe all around their tiny ship.

There was, truly, no doubt that she was _ir-Aeleir:_ space-born. The view was a breathtaking one, and the vastness brought to her heart how immense the Universe was — but she didn't feel small. She felt...

 _Home,_ she mouthed and did not say. It wasn't quite right; she was a creature that needed breath and heat, and the cold darkness between stars would kill her without malice or mercy if any of their gear failed. But a part of her soul was at peace, and the distant gleam of stars, of _suns_ , gave irrefutable evidence to the power of Fire to survive within the blackness.

(When Arrhae had been among other students, they had jested that her Element was Water formed to ice, or perhaps Earth tempered to steel. Closer had been the speculations of Air, with cutting wind that could diffuse immediately. No one ever thought of Fire, not for Arrhae the Vulcan-cold. No one ever thought of the compression that ignited suns, or the embers that could rage for centuries beneath the ground and drive miners from entire planets.)

The habit of duty sent her shuffling, boot-magnetics engaged, to the side of the airlock so she could affix the next tether to an outer ring on the hull, near the airlock's hatch. It would not do for her only anchor-point to be within the airlock, where the line could be severed if someone else needed to come out. Then she disengaged the first tether and held the switch that re-wound it inside the belt-container.

And then... As the ship's floor reckoned in this place where gravity would end the moment she edged out of the airlock, the satellite was above her head, with a void of perhaps two body-lengths between it and _Fve-Rhi-Sei_. It flickered in and out of visibility in queasy ripples, but was clearly about the same size as the ship — though instead of having any crew quarters, it had a longer-duration powerplant (not a singularity) and sprawling sensor arrays. The central core would have enough room for one or perhaps two people, but first she'd have to get to its entry-point.

Taking her time, Arrhae swung herself out of the airlock entirely, holding to the railings that were there for the purpose till she could swing her feet up and attach the magnetized boots to the hull. The false "down" was almost more disorienting than a pure lack of gravity would be, and the ship's own artificial gravity occasionally licked past the ship's skin to pull oddly at her feet.

She clomped, slowly, up the side of the ship until she was directly below the satellite. Then she toggled the radio. "I'm about to push off. Don't know if I've enough mass to make much difference, but be ready."

This time, the background mutter was more indistinct; Jaeil translated it as, "He's ready, sir."

 _Let's see if I make a fool of myself, then,_ she thought, and crouched. That let her turn off the boot magnets. Then she straightened, pushing the ship away from her and herself away from the ship.


	45. Na Ekhaid Hwyejri Ihirvædhleri're

* * *

For a brief moment, shining and stomach-roiling, all was was how it should be: the Universe in its magnificence, and no gravity to give it bounds or directions.

Arrhae had rarely felt close to her mother, but this... She couldn't deny they were of the same blood, which had no joy in herding hlai, but all completion where life was a defiant spark in the night.

Then she was at the border-sat, groping for inconsistently-visible handholds while her momentum tried to carry her further on. She achieved a secure hold before she got dragged to the end of her safety-line, and toggled the comm. "I've got hold of the thing, in case the cameras don't show it."

" _We see you, sir,_ " Jaeil replied.

"I'll keep that in mind. Should I anchor where I am and release the ship, or wait till I can get to the entry-point?"

That prompted a bit of discussion while Arrhae scowled at the field rippling across her hands. Finally Jaeil said, " _Stay tethered to the ship till you get to the entry on the satellite, please. If you tether where you are, the line might scrape across sensors and cause problems along the way._ "

"Understood." Then, still slowly and carefully — for while speed might be appreciated, a mistake would be a longer-lasting blow to her pride — she made her way to where she hoped the satellite's maintenance hatch would be. It was an awkward bit of hand-over-hand, with no good place to magnetize her boots and walk among the sensor-antennae, and she had to be careful not to tangle her safety-line with the satellite either. Keeping her eyes open was nearly a hindrance, with the cloaking field as it was, but feeling her way along didn't improve matters, either.

Despite her care, she got off-direction once — corrected by Jaeil — and had to go back once to unloop the tether from a sensor-antenna. Eventually, though, she made it to the entry-hatch. There, she linked herself to the appropriate point on the satellite itself, and unfastened the safety line from her belt. She set it against the satellite, in the hopes that it wouldn't be jerked away by ship-movements, but fully expected she'd be jumping back and forth to keep to t'Saii's "always anchored by at least one line" advice.

Then she turned her attention to the control panel next to the hatch. It, too, was only erratically visible. She closed her eyes, reviewed the codes mentally... and for this one, worked by clumsy feel. There was always a chance that the border-sat wasn't to spec in its programming, and wouldn't respond to the overrides, but unless someone had done a bit of reprogramming to the components themselves, _something_ should work.

It took three tries: two of one code and success with the first try of a second code. Truly, she wasn't sure that she hadn't just mis-keyed the first code with the thick suit-gloves, but trying it a third time would have potentially locked the controls for an hour or more. But the hatch opened partway on its own, and she pushed it the rest of the way and pulled herself into the satellite. The lights that came on inside were almost entirely small status-dots of color, with a few blank displays outlined in dim white. A number of the status-lights were blood-green: too many for comfort. Others were a concerning amber.

Obviously, the satellite had no artificial gravity. The interior was a cylinder, wide enough that if she placed her back against one side, she would be able to extend her arms to put her palms flat on the other. "Above" her, it expanded into a cone, providing access to two of the major sensor wings, and with the powerplant accesses at the top. Those, at least, had peaceful, deep blues predominating. The flickering patch of green and yellow, however, was undoubtedly linked to the cloaking device.

"I'm in," Arrhae reported, probably needlessly. "I'll start copying the information onto the 'solids first, then see what I can do with the cloaking problems."

" _Acknowledged, sir,_ " came the reply, and Arrhae got to work.

The gloves continued to be thick and clumsy, but no one was there to see her have to chase down a loose data-solid — thankfully these were larger than the finger-like data-sticks they were composed of, within their casings. One of those might've led her a merry chase indeed, even though the suit had a headlamp. She got them slotted into the correct place, was direly relieved that someone had realized a console would need to be operated with suit-gloves, and used override codes to force the satellite's computer to start copying its data directly to the solids.

She left it to that, with the display reeling off the file numbers and names as the percentage incremented — a hypnotic lightshow — and pulled herself up to where the cylinder opened out. "All right, I'm getting out the camera," she reported, drawing the toolbox to her via its own tether.

" _Linking in t'Saii, sir,_ " Jaeil said.

The camera was a little tricky to get set up, having been meant for much _thinner_ gloves. And once she had it broadcasting...

" _Signal's not that good, sir,_ " t'Saii said, " _but unless you think you can get the sat to boost it on the first try, it's probably faster to make Jaeil work on picking it up._ "

With limited air — enough to get the download by a comfortable margin, but still a finite resource — Arrhae said, "Let's see if we can work with this. Here's the panel to access it, yes?"

" _Yes. See the catches?_ "

"Got them." Arrhae fit action to words and slid the panel open. Then she wound up opening up several more than she'd expected, so she could get her head and shoulders into the space. The translucent sphere of the cloaking device and its controls were right there, with the powerplant behind it. If _that_ had needed maintenance, the cloaking device would have had to be pulled out first, and the _Fve-Rhi-Sei_ really wouldn't have had a hope of fixing it while keeping to schedule.

Arrhae waved t'Saii's specialized tricorder around according to the engineer's instructions, and was told, " _I think it's a combination of loose connections and some failed parts that I **should** be able to compensate for, sir. Ready to be my hands?_"

"Never let it be said Tal Shiar won't get their hands dirty," Arrhae replied. "Ready."

It was, as expected, fiddly work. What benefits it gained in simplicity above fussing with tiny microphones and hidden cameras, or the wiring of computers, it lost due to having to do everything in a spacesuit. She had to half-detach the cloak's sphere in order to get into its guts, but carefully, for if the container cracked, that would interfere with the proper dispersal of the wave-functions that those guts generated. While the outer shell was supposed to be extremely tough, it had been out in deep space for who knew how long. (Not Arrhae; that information hadn't been part of the assignment.) It could have become unexpectedly fragile.

Reaching inside and gently pulling out the components that needed checking... replacing a few...

Finally, though, she had packed everything back, sealed the device's sphere, and reconnected all the leads. Panels were closed back up, and she pressed the appropriate buttons for a reset.

Status lights came on in pleasing patterns, first going through a check of their own functioning in all the colors, and then settling on... steady amber. After a moment, the status lights went back into their start-up pattern, went briefly green, and then amber again. "What did I do wrong?" Arrhae sighed to her radio as the lights went through the process for a third time.

" _Nothing, sir,_ " t'Saii said. " _If I'm reading the image right, the device **will** function — but it's more mass-limited than I'd hoped. It doesn't like you being there._"

"You're saying it won't cloak till I'm outside it?"

" _Not fully, sir. It wants to cloak the satellite and only the satellite, and I don't have the components to upgrade it. Sorry, Commander._ "

Arrhae muttered _Fvadt_ under her breath. More loudly, she said, "Let me see how fast the data is being copied. It might be less time exposed to just wait for that to be done."

Jaeil was the one who answered, " _Probably, sir. The time when transmitting, with error correction..._ "

Arrhae arrived back at the display for the data. "Half an hour left. Maybe three quarters." She prodded at the controls for a moment. "And if I stop it here and try to finish it with a transmission... I wager it will want to start all over from the beginning. It won't purge its internal memory till it's finished coping it elsewhere, or gets a code to do so."

" _You have enough air, sir?_ "

Arrhae checked. "Two more hours. I should be fine. I'll run a diagnostic over here while I'm waiting." That, and make sure to purge any hints of the override codes that might be left.

" _Understood, sir. We've got the ship steady. No rush._ "

"Sat out for now, then," Arrhae said, flicked the chin-switch to off, and slid herself to a different panel to start up a simple half-hour diagnostic. Then, at a third, she went rummaging through the computer to wipe all traces that it'd been overridden in the first place, since that was the easiest way to make sure it didn't log the codes used to do so.

After a bit over a half-hour, she moved back to get the data-solids and tuck them into their belt-container again. Then she secured the toolbox's tether, checked that the diagnostic had finished, and chin-bumped the suit's radio. "Any last errands before I head back?"

Nothing answered her. Not even the hiss of an open channel.

It was almost enough to send her into full nausea, save that her throat was closed and tight, and ice was running like fire up her spine and skull. _Terror,_ she identified the emotion. Named it. Claimed it. Took it in her clenched fists and bid it be still and let her think.

If it had been third shift's turn on duty, she'd have assumed that it was them pulling another "prank," and simply stuck her head out the hatch. Or perhaps seen about accessing the satellite's own subspace transmitters and initiating a distress call — one that could be shut off before actually finalizing — to prod them out of hiding.

But though tr'Ronu and t'Raedheol were likely capable of malicious "fun," Jaeil and t'Saii had been on the bridge. And tr'Dreth might not be the _most_ reliable crewman, what with hiding that he'd been taking his own nutritional supplements, but he hadn't evidenced any overtly suicidal tendencies. Not to mention fourth shift could be woken if needed.

So. What would prompt radio silence without warning her?

Arrhae pulled herself back to one of the console panels and coaxed it into displaying the last hour's worth of scans. Nothing... Save little _Fve-Rhi-Sei_ suddenly cloaking about a quarter-hour ago.

So. Mutiny? Tr'Ronu, t'Raedheol, and third shift against t'Saii, Jaeil, and likely tr'Verih? Tr'Aeyn and D'liir were unknown quantities, though tr'Verih apparently had trusted tr'Aeyn to stand watch over Arrhae while she was concussed. (And, really, D'liir was less likely to actively side with third shift than to just be intimidated into submission by them.)

That didn't feel right to her. Perhaps if it had been planned — but who would have planned for Arrhae to be off the ship? Alerting third shift to seal fourth's door, subduing t'Saii... Even if Jaeil didn't fight, she would surely have given some warning?

So. Some _danger_? Arrhae scowled and recalled some of the scan-analysis that Jaeil had shown her, of the star-noise. Carefully, she keyed in similar analysis demands of the satellite's sensor logs.

And there was a warp shadow.

And there, again, closer.

And again... And now the satellite's automatic programs flashed their activation on the display: a ship, unknown and running silent. Warp signature not matching Fleet ships. Danger. Enemy. The satellite was trying to cloak — she glanced up to see the status lights flickering between failure-green and warning-amber in a faster pattern than before — and preparing to sound an alert if the strange ship got too close.

_Jaeil spotted it,_ she decided. _And tr'Ronu cloaked before she could warn me._ That was well within a more sensible malice. _And they have been arguing over whether to alert me or not, hoping that this other ship will pass by._

But the pattern didn't suggest it would.

_They marked the border-sat when it was flickering?_ Unfortunately plausible. And that meant it was probably a Coalition ship, with some sensor-befuddling concealment that was less than true cloaking, but good enough not to alert them till it closed. (Or was it? Jaeil had seen a warp shadow some days back...)

The satellite would have no hope of maintaining its cloak until she was off it.

She had a bit less than an hour and a half of air.

There was really nothing for it. If she stayed on the satellite, the Andorian Coalition would find it and have access to their scans, their scan algorithms, and the satellite's cloaking device. If she left the satellite, then it might conceal itself enough that the ship would pass by.

Or she could blow the satellite up, which would certainly get the enemy ship's attention. It might or might not investigate, then, hoping for useful debris. Might or might not notice a little free-floating Rihannsu, assuming she was able to escape the blast radius in the first place.

The branching possibilities were paralyzing her. That the end of one was a coldly attractive death in fire, doing her small best to defend the Empire, wasn't helping.

She took a breath, then another, and told herself that t'Saii and Jaeil wouldn't have let tr'Ronu take the ship far away. That Jaeil would notice...

She took the toolbox in hand, pushed herself to the satellite's hatch, opened it, and slid through. Closed it behind her. Made sure that it was locked. Unclipped the safety line from where she'd anchored it.

And then she closed her eyes, pulled herself into a crouch, released the handhold...

...and pushed off the satellite. Untethered.


	46. Imirrhlhhseri Ryak'na Ataehkh!

* * *

Floating in null-gravity, with only her momentum to give some sense of pressure, was not making Arrhae want to keep her eyes closed. So she opened them and looked past her feet.

Nothing. Blank space. Removing her mass from the malfunctioning cloaking device's equations had enabled a cloak as she'd hoped. Arrhae let out her breath; the odds had tipped against the unidentified ship being able to find the satellite, unless they'd gotten a _very_ good lock on it. (And even then, she'd pushed off as hard as she could. The satellite would be moving out of position until it stopped detecting the unknown vessel and re-activated its station-keeping maneuvering thrusters.)

If they had... She tightened her lips at the thought, and moved her hand to the suit's outer controls to key in commands to the radio. If that other ship came in close enough to send someone out to investigate... Well, they'd probably find her first, if they were scanning closely. And as she knew codes, she'd have to vent her air or use her back-sheathed knife on her own throat, depending on if the unknown ship was big enough for a transporter.

But all of that wouldn't help if they were able to evaluate her momentum, sweep the place with a tractor beam, and snag the invisible satellite. Which meant... she'd have to blow it up remotely if she could, with a radio link and the override codes. And hope they couldn't crack the transmission's encryption and get those codes themselves.

If that dark-running craft showed up, anyway. Which it might not, if its sensors officer was as lazy as, say, t'Killis.

The way her luck was going, they'd have a Jaeil of their own.

Better to be prepared.

The suit was a little too bulky to curl her knees up, so she wrapped her arms around t'Saii's toolkit instead, and watched the stars and the void.

Something flickered, in the lower left of her view.

She angled herself to look, and waited.

Another flicker, and it wasn't the ship. She counted seconds: _Hwi-kre-sei-mne-rhi_...

She got to seventy-three, nearly a full minute, before the flicker happened again. Then again at fifty-two. Then thirty, almost exactly.

It was the satellite. The cloaking field rippled like water, only slightly better than when they'd approached it in the ship to start with.

Out loud, with only her helmet and the stars to hear, Arrhae said, " _Fvadt. Fvadt, fvadt, fvadt. Imirrhlhhseri aeh'lla-ifv ataehkh! Imirrhlhhseri ryak'na ataehkh!_ " Shouting kept her eyes from watering, kept her nose from filling with the wretchedness of the defective machinery.

And perhaps kept her from noticing anything behind her until something grabbed her belt and yanked.

*****

The choice was simple and wordless. As something pulled at her, Arrhae gripped the toolbox harder, and started to twist and swing it at whatever was behind her.

"Whatever" turned out to be... The side of _Fve-Rhi-Sei_ , with the outer airlock open, and someone in a lightweight suit who'd had the wit to bring some kind of reach-extending device. The other person lost hold of it, but as a line connected the handle to the suit's wrist, that was quickly remedied. Arrhae stilled herself and brought herself into alignment with the airlock as best she could while whoever it was reeled her in.

Then they were both crammed into the airlock, gravity-plating asserting itself, the door closing, and the full lights coming up. Arrhae gripped the other person's upper arms, gasping hard enough to worry that she was about to run out of air even before the airlock had done its job and let them enter the main part of the ship.

The lights flashed reassuring blue and her crewwoman dragged off the lightweight suit's helmet while Arrhae fumbled at her own helmet's catches. T'Saii sensibly yanked her own gloves off before helping Arrhae. "Jaeil spotted a ship," the engineer said urgently as the helmet came off. Urgent, and quiet, as if sensors might pick up a too-loud voice. "Tr'Ronu cloaked immediately, and we were trying to figure out how to signal to you without alerting the other ship. Jaeil tried a few things but you didn't respond, and maybe they didn't work anyway. I was going to go over there — already reeled in the other safety line — but then we had to yell at tr'Ronu more, and Rae as well, and _fvadt_ but I'm going to punch someone!"

"I'll help," Arrhae said. She pulled at the catches of the suit and stumbled inside as the inner door opened. "Get tr'Verih on the bridge. Give him stimulants if needed. I want Jaeil and him there, and not tr'Ronu, and I want you in charge in Engineering."

"Sir!" t'Saii said, and hastened for the ladder, less impeded in her light suit than Arrhae was in her heavier, longer-duration one.

That left Arrhae struggling alone with the thing, but she managed to peel herself out of it and was kicking it into its suit-locker by the time more feet sounded on the ladder-rungs. She abandoned that and turned to see tr'Verih emerging. "Sir!" he said, a little groggily. "Aeyn's getting a stim — what's wrong?"

"Which pilot is the best on the ship?" she demanded.

"Uh, Konra's a little better than I am..."

"Since she's more likely to argue with me, that makes you the best." She gave the suit-locker's door a vain shove before heading for the bridge.

The bridge contained Jaeil, who said, "Commander!" in tones of relief, and tr'Ronu, who said nothing, but glared at her.

"Tell me we're re-cloaked," she said, swinging herself into the tactical seat. A tap on the console revealed that they were, thank the Elements. She pulled on the seat restraints. "Then go and wake up everyone and make sure people have stimulants if they need them. There's a terrible chance we'll be shot at soon."

"What?" said tr'Verih.

Tr'Ronu glared at them both. "Why not have him do it?"

"You know what's going on and can tell the others. _Move!_ " When he hesitated again, she snarled, "T'Tei will say you can't bear to leave my side!"

He flushed an unbecoming bronzy-green and shoved himself out of the seat. As he hastened up the ladder to the second level, tr'Verih sat at the piloting station and began strapping himself in. "Situation, Commander?"

"There's a ship — disguised, if not cloaked — coming up on us. Jaeil spotted it first, that 'warp shadow,' and then the satellite did. But it's defective, that satellite. T'Saii tried to have me repair it but its cloaking still isn't working. Jaeil, show him?"

With a _Yes, Commander!_ behind them, the satellite came up on the display. The ripples that exposed parts of it were erratically-timed, but frequent enough that tr'Verih sucked in his breath in an unhappy hiss.

Arrhae continued, "I suspect that sneaking ship is Andorian, and they're looking for a satellite to grab. Malfunctioning or not, it's _got a cloaking device_."

" _Imirrhlhhse_ ," he said hoarsely. Then, several seconds later, "Sorry, Commander."

"Mm," she acknowledged, and began bringing up the power on the plasma turret, as much as she could while they were cloaked. Absently, she added, "Jaeil, safety straps."

Tr'Aeyn showed up then, with the stimulant. He was artificially bright-eyed himself as he handed the hypo to tr'Verih. "Do you want me on the bridge, Commander?" he asked.

"I'll take Jaeil," Arrhae said. "She's awake on this shift normally, so she won't be stim-addled. Keep tr'Ronu back in Engineering, though — keep everyone there. If that ship sees us... We're either all imploded anyway, or it'll try to disable us. That means bridge, nacelles, or-and the sensors and comm array so we can't call for help. Can't do anything about the nacelles under us all, but we can keep people as far from the top of the ship as possible."

"Understood," tr'Aeyn said, and left the bridge, securing the hatch behind him.

"We're cloaked, Commander," tr'Verih said uncertainly. "The enemy shouldn't see us."

"Turn the ship a little to port," Arrhae said. "And back us off a kilometer."

"Yes, Commander..."

"Jaeil, how soon before that ship reaches us?"

"Maybe a minute, sir."

_Fool,_ Arrhae chastised herself. She should have had Jaeil counting it down from the start.

"They won't pass us by," she said regretfully, as her hands moved on the tactical controls. No chance of being passed by, and only one way to be sure, with that malfunction addling the station's obedience. She paused, then flipped the ship-wide intercom to transmit. "Crew, brace. De-cloaking. Firing."

**Notes for the Chapter:**

> Note on Or-And: the Rihannsu "and" is _u'_ , prefixed to the thing it's "anding." The "or" is a separate word. Thus, "and/or" in that order would be more likely to be read "and (an) or." The _u'_ construction also means they're more likely to make lists that would literally translate "this and that and those and these," with repetitive _and_ s.


	47. Jolan'tru, Riov Shon

* * *

Arrhae had trained on ship-weapons as much as anything else required of her new responsibility. If anything, she had been better at it than piloting, and the satellite was a close, stationary target. It was like shooting a sedated hlai'hwy.

Someone on the 'com moaned _"Elements!"_ as the satellite exploded with enough of a shockwave to make the _Fve-Rhi-Sei_ shudder.

Arrhae ordered, "Re-cloak as soon as possible." She turned her head. "Tr'Verih, have you ever ship-danced?" (She wished she'd had time to try it herself. Irrelevant thought.)

He said, "Er, yes, Commander."

The unidentified ship flashed into existence on the viewscreen, seconds ahead of projections. False-color depicted an elongated oval with stubby weapon-wings: an Andorian design. A glance at the console showed _Fve-Rhi-Sei_ 's cloak wasn't restored yet. Jaeil yelped, "They're charging weapons!"

"Dance this ship, Vir," Arrhae said.

He did. As she'd suspected from the specs, what _Fve-Rhi-Sei_ lacked in everything else — it had in maneuverability. The display swirled wildly, with even automatic camera-focus unable to fully keep up with the rolls and hard, hairpin jinks tr'Verih was performing. The ship shuddered with near-impact of torpedoes, exploding far too close for comfort.

Arrhae attempted a few shots at the Andorian ship with the turret, plasma impacting glancingly. "How are their shields, Jaeil?"

"Elements," she groaned. "They're fine. Their shields are just _perfect_."

"Tr'Verih, warp's good if you can spare a hand and it won't implode us," Arrhae said. His ship-dancing was a thing of beauty, but the Andorians had the advantage: they only needed one lucky shot.

His verbal response was a distracted unintelligibility. Jumping to warp was clearer.

"They're chasing us," Jaeil quavered. "Water and Air, they're faster."

"Is warp-dancing a thing?" Arrhae asked.

"It is now, Commander," tr'Verih said fervently, and the blurred otherspace spun. The ship shuddered, too.

From the intercom, t'Saii said, " _I do not think we are specced for **warp-dancing**!_"

The ship rocked again as a disruptor beam glanced across the very edge of the shields, jolting Arrhae against the safety straps. Jaeil made an unhappy noise.

"I do not think we are specced to take disruptor hits, either," Arrhae told t'Saii. "Jaeil, distress call — cut it off the moment we cloak, of course."

" _Yes_ , Commander!"

"Tr'Verih, when we cloak, drop out of warp. They may overfly us."

He made another of those wordless noises, eyes wide and fixed on his console displays and controls.

Arrhae considered taking a few more shots at the enemy ship, but decided against draining any energy that could more profitably be used for the warp drive. However... "Engineering, have someone ready to load mines into the launcher."

D'liir was the one whose voice came from the comm. " _Yes, Commander. They won't activate well at warp speeds, though._ "

"Can they be rigged for a three-second countdown, starting after they leave the launcher?"

" _Maybe, Commander._ "

"If anyone's not busy back there, have them try. And as you've got time, get people into the lightweight suits. There's always a chance they'd crack us but not break us."

" _Yes, Commander,_ " D'liir said, and then — plainly a short distance from Engineering's intercom — t'Saii called, " _Ten to cloak!_ "

"Nine," Jaeil added. "Eight-seven-six-five-four-three—"

The hit was _not_ glancing. The ship rocked and spun, flinging Arrhae against her safety straps while the sensor-feeds cut out on her console. At the back of the bridge, a high-placed screen blew out in a shower of sparks, while Jaeil shrieked. Arrhae glanced back to see that the sensors officer wasn't badly damaged, just cowering with her arms over her head, and yelled, "Engineering?!"

"It backwashed the cloak controls!" t'Saii yelled. "No cloak!"

"Warp-dancing," tr'Verih said, and the otherspace blur made twists that Arrhae wouldn't have believed possible. The ship shuddered and the ruined screen belched a few more sparks into the room, despite automatic fire-suppression foam rising from the display-frame.

Something was beeping from behind Arrhae. "Jaeil?!" she snapped.

"S-sorry! Sorry! H-hailing. They're hailing us, Commander."

"Need the display, tr'Verih?" she asked.

"Nuh," he said, yanking the ship to the side, eyes on his own console's displays.

"On the main screen, if there's visual, Jaeil," Arrhae instructed, and set her jaw and spine for the camera.

There was visual. Another bridge, somewhat larger than the _Fve-Rhi-Sei_ 's tiny one. A central seat with an Andorian man, his vest cut low and wearing no shirt underneath. At their own stations were two more Andorians and a couple of furred aliens (Ferasan or Caitians; she couldn't tell them apart without closer squinting than she wanted to give).

The man looked at them with... curiosity, she thought, his antennae aimed forward as if they might sense something from the image. He said, "Well, and you're a handsome people." Then, after a cough, he continued, "This is Captain Shon of the Coalition ship _Shax_. Disengage your warp drive and power down your weapons."

Arrhae felt her eyebrows pulling down into a glare. "This is Imperial Observational Vessel _Fve-Rhi-Sei_ , Arrhae T'Solos commanding. You are intruding in Imperial space, _Shax_. Stop your engines and await an official escort!"

Someone made a choking noise — on their bridge or hers, she wasn't sure, though the Andorian antennae she could see had all splayed into odd positions. After a moment, during which no one was firing at _Fve-Rhi-Sei_ , the Andorian captain said, "Excuse me, I'm not sure the translator was working. Did you just tell _us_ to cut our engines?"

Arrhae said coldly, "Cease pursuit, stop your engines, and await an Imperial escort out of Rihannsu territory. Yes."

His antennae were canted most oddly, as his head tipped over. He pointed at the display. "So you in your toy ship are telling—" he said, then pointed his thumb back at himself "—us in _our_ toy ship..."

"If you would rather leave precipitously before the escort arrives, I suppose we do not have a tractor beam that could detain you," Arrhae told him, tapping on the console where its face was hidden from the bridge camera. (Tr'Verih tapped back a _yes_ and adjusted course appropriately.)

Again, the Andorians' Captain Shon was silent for several blessed seconds of _no one shooting_. Then he closed his eyes and shook his head as if to clear water from his face, antennae flopping less than expected. "I hate to say no to a pretty girl, but if you don't surrender, we're going to have to blow you up."

Arrhae jerked up her chin. "Then you _invaders_ will be responsible for—" She swallowed, remembered something from her studies of the Andorian language, and hoped Jaeil would forgive her. "For the ending of thirteen lives."

It was tr'Verih who said, "Thirteen, Commander?"

Holding her gaze on the Andorian captain, Arrhae said, simply, "One of the crew is pregnant. I found out from those health scans I was doing."

On the display, the Andorian muttered, loudly, "Infinite." He rubbed his temple. "Look, I don't want—"

"If you destroy this ship, Captain Shon," Arrhae interrupted, "you will be responsible for the deaths of twelve adults and one unborn life. _You_ are the intruders here. _You_ are the ones behaving as raiders and pirates, like those who killed my mother. _You_ cut _your_ engines and leave off pursuit!"

He said, "Oh, for—" and made a gesture. The screen went back to displaying the warp-space blurs.

"Start dodging, Vir," Arrhae said. "Engineering! If you've got that timed mine programmed, get ready to lay it in their path. Jaeil, rear cameras if you can, and are we still transmitting a distress call?"

While Engineering made noises of _"working,"_ Jaeil said, "No, sir. They got the subspace radio transmitter. We're mute for anything but short-range."

"Of course," Arrhae sighed, then grabbed at the edges of the console as the ship jolted with a disruptor hit.

The intercom wailed, " _Elements! Our shields!_ "

Jaeil said, "That... that wasn't their full power, Commander!"

"Thank you, language-teacher t'Sharin," Arrhae said devoutly. The Andorians had been close to extinction till genetic engineers managed to repair the accumulated defects that rendered too few of their three reproductive sexes — and the fourth incubation one — able to produce viable offspring. The societal reverence for healthy children still persisted, and apparently could be invoked for even non-Andorian ones. "Thank you and your extra-credit test questions."

Jaeil said, "It still nearly took down our shields."

"Mm." Arrhae clung to the console again as the ship rocked less unhappily and tr'Verih hissed. She said, "Engineering, drop an explosive mine whenever one is ready. We are not getting cloak anytime soon, yes?"

" _Give me three hours and no one shooting at me, sir..._ "

Jaeil reported, quietly, "Mine deployed." A moment later, "Exploded... It didn't do anything to their shields."

Arrhae hissed an unsurprised irritation.

"They're still faster than we are, sir. If they have a tractor beam..."

"They can't use it in warp," Arrhae said. "How far to the next satellite?"

" _Hours_ , Commander!" Jaeil wailed, then wailed without words as another glancing shot made the ship lurch.

"Shield status?" Arrhae barked, glancing over her shoulder.

"Barely holding, Commander! If they go back to full power—"

"I know!" she snapped. "Tr'Verih, dance us along the way to within that next satellite's range — at least if it sees us screaming past, it should report once we're out of range." And give other people the chance of name-flags for the dead. (Did Fleet hang them for all ship-crew? Perhaps Arrhae would get one of her own after all...)

_Fve-Rhi-Sei_ rocked and shuddered. From the intercom, t'Saii said, " _Do you want shields reinforced or speed, Commander?_ " Even through speaker, she sounded... terrified and trying to focus past it.

_They're Fleet, but no one here is truly **military** ,_ Arrhae thought. Spyship crews weren't meant to see combat. Unlike the Coalition ship, she wagered, and hoped that meant the Andorian captain was underestimating _Fve-Rhi-Sei_ 's crew. "I want," she said, and realized what she wanted in the space between words. "I want shields enough that they can't disable the warp drive in one glancing shot, can't blow up Engineering, and can't beam anyone off. I want secondary stations prepped, with Konra for helm, tr'Dreth on sensors, and... and tr'Ronu for tactical. If any of the bridge are beamed off, we'll need to have someone ready to take over on the redundant systems."

" _What if they get you all?_ " t'Saii asked, which was not a useful focus on an unnecessary detail, but uncertainty never helped the uncertain.

"I doubt they can, for their ship's probably not large enough to grab more than one or two at a time. However..." She scowled and typed in codes to access the small computer in her quarters. Happily, it hadn't been damaged by a power surge or sucked out a crack in the hull. She pulled the visual feed from the bridge camera into the public part of the ship's computer and said, "Have t'Killis monitor that feed. If anyone gets beamed out, next in line takes over. Energy priority is speed and keeping them from disabling us!"

There was some fervent cursing from someone, nearly drowning out t'Saii's " _Yes, Commander!_ "

On the display, the star-blurs were spiraling erratically as tr'Verih made their nacelles a jerky moving target. On the tactical console, the wireframe representations of _Fve-Rhi-Sei_ and _Shax_ showed the Coalition ship approaching on one side.

"Jaeil," Arrhae said, ignoring yet another shudder that was plainly intended to take their shields down without imploding them. "Are there any phenomena around that we could try to hide in till our cloak is fixed?"

"Looking, Commander! It's hard to tell — they took out a lot of our sensors."

"Good thing we had so many." Arrhae bit her lip at the wireframes. "Tr'Verih..."

"Yuh," he said, hunched over his own console. Of a sudden, the display's blurs veered into nearly a right angle, as tr'Verih jinked away. He hit the intercom switch himself. "Siiiii! Can I drop-start?!"

T'Saii groaned, " _Elements! Give me three seconds!_ " A brief pause." _There, ready! Don't hold off too long._ "

Arrhae wasn't sure what a drop-start was, but she spared a hand to cling to the safety straps.

And well she did: the _Fve-Rhi-Sei_ went into a tumble, somehow still at warp, that allowed _Shax_ to catch up more quickly. Tr'Verih straightened them out, veered "down," then immediately starboard, and dropped out of warp.

The stars continued to wheel on the display as tr'Verih spun the ship on impulse, then leapt to warp again.

Jaeil said, "They overshot us, but they're turning around. I don't think we've bought much time."

"Out of weapons-range for a little," tr'Verih said, rubbing his sleeve across his forehead.

Arrhae queried her console, got the answer, and murmured, "Explosive mine readied..."

"Those don't _do_ anything," Jaeil cried.

Arrhae said, "They at least reduce our mass a little. Do we have anywhere to hide?"

"Nothing good." Jaeil sniffled. "All that star-noise and not even a little ion storm!"

_Oh._


	48. Eihss'nhaai

* * *

_Ion storm._ Something clicked in Arrhae's mind. Historical, yes. But not school. Not even the academy. Blatant abuse of Tal Shiar codes because she'd been _bored_ , waiting for the judges to confer at a sword-competition; she'd had a brand-new data-pad with fascinating, shiny encryption; and the filename had looked interesting.

" _Eihss'nhaai!"_ she said. _Sunseed._

"Commander?" tr'Verih asked.

She snapped her teeth shut on the word. "Highly classified. You didn't hear it. I'd have to slit throats if anyone heard it. Understood?"

"Yes, Commander!" they both chorused.

"Jaeil, what would the nearest star be, that _should be targeted_ to make star noise? Or started doing it recently?"

"Ah... Ah... Here! A little red one, Commander! It's at the wave front." Coordinates appeared on Arrhae's screen, and presumably tr'Verih's as well. "It hasn't started making noise yet, but—but if it's something deliberate, it's on the path and they haven't done it to many red stars yet, so if they're gathering data—"

"How long to get there?"

"The front was curling here, so if we cut across... Full warp... A single hour, sir?"

The ship rocked, announcing another disruptor poke from _Shax_. Arrhae said, "Tr'Verih, get to that star, however you need to do it."

"Yuh," he agreed, all his concentration returned to keeping them from taking a direct hit.

Arrhae tapped Engineering's button again. "If anyone back there is bored, cobbling together a subspace radio antenna would be lovely. Failing that, ready a timed tractor mine to go after I launch this explosive."

This time it was t'Killis who replied, " _Aeyn's on the antenna, and tr'Ronu's on the mine. You want Dreth on antennae too?_ "

"So long as he's ready if the Coalition takes out the bridge. Signal my tac console when the mine is prepped, and load it as soon as possible. Thanks." Arrhae felt a touch pleased with herself, despite the circumstances, for remembering that tr'Ronu's report said he was actually decent with tactical equipment.

The wireframes had _Shax_ creeping up on them again as they spun and wobbled. Arrhae said, "I'd like it if they got behind us again, please. I want to bounce a mine off his nose."

"Heh." Tr'Verih made the wobbling more extreme, nearly smacking _Fve-Rhi-Sei_ 's tail into _Shax_ 's front, and _Shax_ backed off.

Arrhae dropped the mine, which exploded prettily on the Coalition vessel's shields.

"That did nothing, sir," Jaeil said.

"Indeed. As their own crew report, no doubt." Arrhae forbore to scrub at her face, and thought to bother Engineering again. "T'Killis?"

" _Here._ "

No _sir_ or _Commander,_ Arrhae noted, but didn't waste time chiding her. For one, she was too busy clinging to her straps as the disruptors lanced out again. "Find out from one of our fine engineers whether we can pair a feigned engine difficulty with a 'drop-start,' for the next time tr'Verih needs a moment to recover. For extra credit, can I spray out some plasma in a brief interval between dropping and starting?"

Apparently one of the engineers had been close enough to hear. T'Tei said, " _I hope the Andorians **do** beam you off! We'll need five minutes, better if ten, to set up fake warp failure._"

"Insubordination. Can you prepare it and hold it in readiness?"

" _Yes, sir,_ " t'Tei said.

"Get it started. Send a console alert when it's ready."

" _Sir._ " The connection was closed.

Now, to keep up morale, with _Fve-Rhi-Sei_ vibrating around them such that it was impossible to tell what was a near miss and what was the ship protesting tr'Verih's treatment of him... "Jaeil, what information can you get on that red dwarf? I am particularly interested in how its corona is behaving. But break off if tr'Aeyn can get an antenna working to get out a distress call — that's the priority."

"Yes, Commander." The sensors officer sounded as shaky as the ship's walls. "Ah, the Andorians are hailing us again."

"Put it on my console. No need to distract anyone else." And perhaps chatting with them would reduce the shooting. Or perhaps not. She added, "Vir, don't get complacent," before she tapped on the little blinking square Jaeil had shunted to her.

The square opened up into an image, much reduced, of the _Shax_ 's bridge. Before the Andorian captain could open his mouth, Arrhae said politely, "I will accept your apologies, Captain Shon, but first you must cease fire."

It did make him pause — though, from the way _Fve-Rhi-Sei_ rocked, his tactical officer did not stop attacking. Finally he said, "Are you from the _Mirror Universe?"_

"Rihannsu Star Empire, not Vulcan Star Empire," Arrhae said. "And you?"

"I'm just _checking_ , since I am attempting to offer you a chance to _surrender_."

"As I have heard stories of how the Coalition treats prisoners, I must decline to offer up my crew as entertainment for yours. You may, however, cease pursuit now. We will not object, as this diversion begins to pall." Another direct shot landed, though thankfully none of the science displays flared out this time. She clung to the console and couldn't keep her expression from blanking tightly until the shield-readout stopped flickering and stabilized on something at least strong enough to prevent transporters from locking onto them.

"I'll give my word—"

"Which will last entirely as long as it takes for us to be turned over to the Council of Generals as a prize. 'A handsome people,' you said."

"We're not like that!" he protested.

"Then turn around and go home," Arrhae advised. And, since his tactical officer had not stopped firing as she'd hoped, she cut the communication.

The square started flashing again almost immediately. She tapped it and interrupted whatever he was about to say with a curt, "I am busy. If you wish to talk, stop shooting at us. It is impolite." She closed the connection again.

Behind her, Jaeil said, "Is... is that wise, Commander?"

"With luck, it will focus him on me. As I am the worst pilot on this ship, our weapons are nearly useless, and there are at least three other sensor officers with greater skill than mine... Well, if he beams someone off this bridge, I'm the expendable one." And likely the one who could do the most damage on the other ship, with sidearm and knife. "But he doesn't know that."

"Oh," Jaeil quavered, then whined at another impact. Obviously Captain Shon didn't feel that conversation was worth more than his gunner's amusement.

"Commander," tr'Verih said, "I could use a break if you could arrange one."

Jaeil added, almost normally, "So could our shields."

"I'll try." She tapped the intercom. "T'Killis, can Konra take over during the drop-start? Tr'Verih needs a rest, and it might confuse them to have different reflexes."

A moment later, t'Killis replied, " _What are the coordinates on the display?_ "

"Where there is a bare hope we can evade the Andorians. I don't care what has to be done to get us there."

The ship rocked. " _We're ready, Commander,_ t'Saii said. " _False warp failure at your order. You'll have turret power till we jump to warp again, then it'll cut out automatically._ "

"Good. Konra, be ready. Tr'Verih, at your whim."

"Next hit they get," tr'Verih said. _Fve-Rhi-Sei_ jolted. "Now! Rolling on impulse — take him, Konra!"

" _Mine!_ " the other pilot snapped, and tr'Verih flopped back in the chair, shaking his arms.

"Wait for jump," Arrhae said urgently, hunched over her own console now. "Wait..."

The _Shax_ appeared, disruptors lashing out with a ferocity that suggested they mistrusted the "engine trouble." Arrhae returned fire with little better accuracy — Konra was indeed an excellent ship-dancer — and dropped the mine, both of which _Shax_ ignored.

"Warp!" Arrhae ordered, and an instant later the engines snarled as _Fve-Rhi-Sei_ returned to his bubble of otherspace.

"They're— they're not following!" Jaeil said. "I think the tractor got them!"

With the intercom open to Engineering, Arrhae said, "They'll shoot it out in seconds, but till then, run straight and fast. I don't care if they know which star we're headed for, and we're not likely to evade their scans in any case."

Konra muttered indistinct things. Jaeil said, "I've got their warp signature again, I think. They're not running quiet like they were on the border."

"That false warp-shadow of theirs must be slower than their full speed. How soon till they're back on our tail?"

"I... I'm not sure. They're not matching our speed yet."

"What?" Arrhae twisted in her seat to look at her sensors officer.

Jaeil was focused on her readouts, swiveling her chair to look from one to another. "I think... their engines were damaged, somehow?"

From the open intercom, t'Raedheol said, " _If the tractor locked on just as they were about to transition to warp, it could have yanked something out of alignment, despite their shields. The timing on that would be pure luck. Any earlier, and they simply wouldn't jump till they'd disposed of the mine. Any later, and they'd have warped out._ "

"My thanks, Universe," Arrhae said, using the _khlinae reh_ of subordinate to superior. "And thank you, little tractor mine. Engineering, do whatever you can to keep us going fast and steady. Hopefully we won't need more than minimal shields till they catch up again."

" _Understood,_ " t'Raedheol said. There was a murmur from elsewhere in Engineering. " _You want someone to bring Vir another stimulant?_ "

"If the Medbay hasn't lost atmosphere, break out stimulants for everyone as needed, and bring a few up here. Food, water, 'fresher breaks..." She unfastened her safety straps and stood, wobbling slightly, to pull one of the lightweight suits from its panel. "And suits for everyone who doesn't have one yet."

" _Understood,_ " t'Raedheol replied, and Arrhae let the intercom link close for the moment.

Then she dragged herself into the emergency suit, leaving the flexible hood flopped over her back, and went to fetch one for Jaeil. "Here. I'll watch the console."

The other woman took the suit. "They're matching our speed, Commander, but haven't started catching up yet. When they go back to their full speed... I think we'll have a quarter hour at most."

"Use the 'fresher if you have to," Arrhae advised.

Jaeil paused in getting her other leg into the suit and tapped a spot on the back wall. "We've got a leak in the upper hall. All the doors closed properly, so our quarters should be fine, and the mess hall, but the corridor in the upper crew deck is thin atmosphere at best."

"They'll know in Engineering?"

"The alert light is on above that door. Even if they didn't notice the displays, they'll notice those."

"Good. How's the airlock-side corridor? Are we trapped on the bridge?"

"Not yet, sir."

Lovely thought.


	49. Saj Flaiihel'siu

* * *

From where he was getting his own suit on, tr'Verih said, "Ah, if we have a moment... is it true that someone... Ah, that there are thirteen lives on this ship?"

Jaeil paused briefly in tucking her bosom into the suit. "It's me," she said, continuing to compress herself to fit.

He said, "Oh." Then, a bit later, he said, "Um."

"And the Fleet doctor said it should be healthy. Said... she should be healthy," Jaeil added, while Arrhae was quiet and watched the numbers holding steady on the sensors console.

"That's good," he said. Another pause, and another, "Um."

"And— and the Commander got a probable genetic match for the father," Jaeil said in a rush.

"Oh!" he said. "Then not..."

"Not tr'Hoiim. No."

"That's good," he said, arranging the suit to compensate for his uniform's shoulder-points by the expediency of folding them down to fit. He added a final, "Um."

Jaeil looked to where Arrhae was being very quiet and only glancing sidelong at her current bridge crew. "Commander?"

"I'm sorry to have mentioned it," Arrhae said. "I'd hoped that Captain Shon might lose his stomach for blowing us up, though. It's... a cultural thing for Andorians." If the Universe smiled on them, perhaps _Shax_ 's engine problems were being used as an excuse to fail to catch _Fve-Rhi-Sei_. But she doubted it; they'd likely spent all their luck with the timing on that mine.

Tr'Verih said, with a diffidence that almost invited rebuff, "Does the father know?"

Jaeil swallowed. "Not yet."

"Ah."

She swallowed again. "I was hoping... his clan might at least acknowledge her. The child. If she's born healthy."

"Depends on the clan," he said. "Might... might want to give the man some time to... to start forging the sword, for that fight. Plan the campaign."

"You think he'd care?" she asked.

_He's done the math,_ Arrhae thought. _There are four men on this ship, and D'liir has no clan._ Tr'Verih had to know that there was at least a one-in-three chance...

He said, "Could be made to care, at worst. Might want to do a better job trying to get us all safe."

Now Jaeil said, "Um," and looked pleadingly at Arrhae.

Arrhae tried not to sigh. She said, "I found out about the pregnancy when I did the medical check on her, that second day. I'd only meant to have a discussion about rumors of potential discipline issues I hoped to avoid noticing officially. The rest of the health scans let me check for genetic correspondences, which I found." She raised her eyebrow at Jaeil, got an urgent nod in return, and continued, "Congratulations, tr'Verih. The scanner names you an excellent match."

He slumped back in the pilot's chair, swiveled so he could look at them. "Oh," he said, perhaps even less coherent than Arrhae had been while concussed, but not obviously repelled by the idea. After a bit, while Jaeil stuffed her knuckles into her mouth, he said to her, "You know I'm not faithful. It's not in me."

"I know," Jaeil said, as Arrhae resigned herself to more drama — while the numbers between them and _Shax_ began flickering with uncertainty.

The Andorians were likely accelerating, but not yet fast enough for her to interrupt.

Tr'Verih had sat up, now leaning forwards with his elbows on his knees. "I mean, if I could keep myself from saying 'yes' whenever someone beckoned, I'd still be on that T'Varo, or following his commander, anyway."

"Y-you were pretty bad at saying 'no' when I was in that bar," she said.

"Trying to keep you out of trouble, and just look what I wound up doing..." He shook his head.

"Not complaining."

He looked up, with a grin at Jaeil that made Arrhae recall he'd been called attractive by the station doctor, too. She ducked her head to avoid seeing more; better not to wake any aesthetic considerations in her own mind. Her skills were for strategic goals, not personal preference. It would be easier if bodies were merely bodies, and she were attracted to no particular conformation over any other. And no smiles.

Definitely no smiles for what was on the console. "They're beginning to catch up, I think. Jaeil?"

The other woman looked as well. "Yes. Perhaps... perhaps a quarter hour," she whispered.

"Take some of it to use the 'fresher. Both of you. Then me, and speak quickly while I'm gone."

Jaeil nodded and left, giving tr'Verih a look over her shoulder.

Arrhae flipped the intercom switch. "About a quarter hour till our blue friends catch up. Let Jaeil use the 'fresher, make sure we've got supplies—" She looked over her shoulder as the hatch opened on tr'Ronu, his arms full of the aforementioned supplies: more water bottles than they probably needed, nutrition bars, and ampules of stimulants. Arrhae let the switch close as she moved to take various things from him. "Thanks."

"This is your fault," he said. "We were cloaked. They wouldn't have seen us."

She crouched to set down the various supplies so she could start putting things into the panel where she'd gotten her lightweight suit from. "If the Coalition had flown off with even a malfunctioning cloaking device, none of us would be spared for letting it happen, and you know it. You were on the bridge. I was on the bridge. And Jaeil was on the bridge. You wanted to keep her from Tal Shiar attention before, didn't you?"

"And now you're blackmailing her."

"Not anymore, I'm not," Arrhae said, and tr'Verih snorted in amusement.

"You were!"

"I was heeding her wishes for privacy until the Andorians forced my hand, to buy time for us all." She tried to remember if she'd left the intercom open when she'd mentioned the pregnancy, couldn't recall, and decided it didn't matter. Let him be puzzled if that was how matters fell. "Get back to Engineering. If they beam me off, you'll be the one responsible for keeping them from getting _our_ cloaking device."

He hesitated, and she picked up the ampules of stimulants, tucking one into her own belt, then turning to hand the others to tr'Verih. When she turned back and found tr'Ronu still there, she said, "Establish a chain of command-inheritance, and make sure everyone knows the Coalition must _not_ be allowed to get our cloak. After me, command falls to you, then tr'Dreth, then t'Saii. You figure out where it goes from there — though tr'Aeyn seems to have a level head, so I recommend him if t'Tei won't balk for some third shift-fourth shift reason."

"And what are we supposed to do besides destroy the cloaking device, if they take the ship?" he demanded.

She just looked at him. "You'll be sitting right next to a contained singularity, tr'Ronu. Jump in. If they're close enough, the implosion will eat both our little toy ships. Now get off the bridge; you're distracting me."

He snarled and stomped off, attempting to slam the hatch closed behind him. It didn't work as well as he might have hoped, though the intent was plain. Arrhae sat at the sensors chair and regarded the numbers between _Shax_ and them. They were counting down faster than she liked. "Tr'Verih, go wait for the 'fresher. If we're very, very lucky... We'll need you and Konra trading off, and you'd best not be distracted by a full bladder."

"What about you, Commander?" he asked.

She glanced up with a crooked, malicious smile. "With only one 'fresher, and them catching up? Either I'll use my own 'fresher when this is done, or I'll douse some Coalition bastard. Or," she added with a shrug, "we'll all be part of a singularity for a little while and it won't matter."

"My apologies, Commander, but you are a morbid young woman."

"That's probably insubordination, pilot, but I blame the stimulants."

"Mm. I'll go wait at the 'fresher, as ordered, Commander." He paused at the hatch, though, and said, "Thank you for being kind to Jaeil."

He left before she could think of anything to say to that.


	50. Glopai Saeihrevha Mibh

* * *

In the end, she did get her turn at the 'fresher after all, for the Coalition ship spent some minutes hovering at a range which Jaeil suspected was intended to be outside of what their sensors could detect. Apparently the Andorians had either overestimated how damaged _Fve-Rhi-Sei_ 's sensors were, or underestimated how good Jaeil was at using them.

"They're probably trying to figure out where we're going," Arrhae had surmised. And then, as it would take a few minutes for the _Shax_ to catch up, she bolted for the lower-deck 'fresher, cutting through the ladder-well. The air seemed thinner inside the well, though all three doors had sealed properly; perhaps her imagination.

She got back to the bridge and strapped into her chair just in time; _Shax_ had indeed surged towards them. 

From Engineering, t'Killis asked, " _You want another mine loaded?_ " No honorifics, but at least she used the right pronoun.

"Tractor, please. But be ready to unload it again — I may have something useful for the remaining explosive ones to do."

" _If you say so,_ " t'Killis grumbled — still with the right pronoun — and relayed the order.

Jaeil said, "Commander, the Andorians are hailing us again."

"My console. No need to let them know tr'Verih's taking a break."

"Yes, Commander."

The little flashing square appeared on Arrhae's display, and she tapped it. Once again, the _Shax_ 's entire bridge was visible. Arrhae said, kindly, "If you are lost, we can transmit coordinates to your side of the border. You do not need to follow us."

Captain Shon closed his mouth on whatever he had intended to say, stared at her for a moment, and remarked, "Is there _anyone_ sane on your ship?"

"Of course. However, they appear to be disinclined to mutiny at this time." She tilted her head in a confiding manner. "The Coalition reputation regarding prisoners is not working in your favor, Captain. You may wish to address that."

"I will regret this, but what, Commander, do you suggest?"

"Ceasing pursuit would make us all think much better of Coalition personnel," she told him as brightly as she could manage. At least they weren't quite in weapons-range yet...

"The problem there," he explained, "is that you've presumably scanned my very expensive, very secret toy ship. And if I let you get those scans back to your intelligence people, I'm going to get yelled at."

"Oh, is that all?" she said. "Be at ease. The satellite detected you and sounded an alert within, while I was attempting to repair it. I doubt it had time to transmit its scans before I destroyed it. And as you badly damaged our sensors during the initial misunderstanding, we have acquired nothing of value since." (Never mind that Jaeil was perhaps good enough to scan dungheaps and isolate dilithium, to mutate an old saying. And never mind that they'd already seen the "warp artifact." The Andorian had no way to know those important details.)

"So if we break off, you'll say the satellite was exploded when you found it, and not mention this little chase at all?" He didn't sound like he believed that.

Arrhae shrugged for him. "So you will be yelled at by diplomats, for trespassing in Imperial space. I will be chided for destroying valuable equipment. Of the pair of us, I am more likely to be struck, as I was unable to repair the satellite's cloaking device before you arrived." She allowed herself to slip past blankness to bleakness, to see how he would react.

"How about a compromise?" the Andorian offered, with antennae movements that might or might not indicate emotional responses. "You stop running, and let my computer people on, to make sure your computer doesn't have anything sensitive about us. Then we both go home."

That deserved a chiding look of her own. "Captain Shon. Do you know what would happen to me if I allowed the Coalition to prowl Imperial computers?"

"They'd yell at you?" he said.

She smiled, all Tal Shiar and just a little insane; the kind of smile to frighten an interrogation subject. "The last time I disappointed my superior officer, I wound up concussed, and flying this ship into orbit anyway, on his orders. I spent a fiveday recovering in our 'little toy medbay.' Break off, Captain Shon, and go home, or there will be thirteen deaths weighting your soul — and you the only one to remember the unnamed life." She tapped the icon to terminate the connection.

Tr'Verih said, "Do you think that will work, Commander?"

"We'll find out when he gets in range." She tapped the intercom switch. "Konra, get ready to dodge. They'll be shooting in twenty seconds or less."

The response, slightly away from the microphone, was quite vulgar. T'Killis translated, " _She's ready._ "

The _Shax_ closed, came into range, and immediately began firing its disruptor beams. Konra was a breath faster, swerving and spinning the ship to make the nacelles the hardest target. _Fve-Rhi-Sei_ shuddered, giving off a faint whine. Arrhae had an unpleasant suspicion that things were beginning to rattle with every hard turn, and hoped it was just the water and nutrient bars behind the panel she'd used for them.

Jaeil reported, "That's the low-powered beam again. They're... they're still just trying to disable us, Commander."

Tr'Verih said, "I'd never have thought someone could make guilt a weapon against an Andorian."

"It seems to work better than the explosive mines, at least." Arrhae closed her eyes and tapped her fingers on the edge of her console. "Jaeil, how long till we reach the star?"

"Half an hour if we could fly straight again. With all this dodging... I don't know, Commander."

"If you notice any closer stars beginning to make noise, tell me." She decided to bother Engineering again. "T'Killis, any luck on a subspace radio?"

" _No, sir. Tr'Aeyn thinks he can stuff one of the mines full of sensor-noise, but it'd only be normal-space._ "

Arrhae grunted thoughtfully. "Huh. Might startle them, though. Have him use one of the tractor-mines. I may need the explosives."

A pause, and t'Killis said, " _He's on it._ "

"Good." She let the connection close and rubbed her face. "I need to do some calculations. Jaeil, send me the star data for that red dwarf."

"Yes, Commander."

And now to see if her memory — so often noted by teachers, occasionally netting praise even from her guardian — was up to the task of re-creating a technique she'd _skimmed_ while bored, two, maybe three, years ago. While the ship shuddered around her, Andorians fired on them, and a room full of engineers were undoubtedly biting their lips bloody while keeping the warp drive and shields up.

Even Konra — who did seem slightly faster than tr'Verih — couldn't stop them from taking the occasional hit, though thus far, the _Shax_ hadn't landed two in a row. Shields came back up before anyone could get transported off. The ship stayed at warp. The singularity remained contained.

" _Engineering here,_ " t'Killis said, interrupting Arrhae's desperate calculations. " _Konra'd like a break. Want another fake engine-glitch?_ "

She glanced over to tr'Verih, who had straightened and was poised over the piloting station. He nodded. Arrhae said, "If you would. Tr'Verih's ready. I don't suppose that broadcasting mine is also ready?"

" _D'liir's shoving it in,_ " t'Killis reported.

"Let's startle the Andorians, then."

From elsewhere in Engineering, Konra's fainter voice called, " _And one, and two, and dropping **now**!_"

The mine launcher's icon was active. Arrhae slapped it the moment the normal starfield reappeared on the display. Tr'Verih snapped out, "Got him!" and the ship rolled, orienting on their intended star.

_Shax_ appeared, not having overshot as much as before, but tr'Verih had already sent _Fve-Rhi-Sei_ back into warp though the ship shuddered and creaked.

Jaeil reported, "I think they're pausing to shoot out the screamer-mine, Commander."

"Relay that to Engineering and tell them 'good job'," Arrhae said. "And how's our star doing?"

"Silent, though... Commander?"

"Mm?"

"There's a closer star, just a little, maybe ten minutes sooner to get there if we veer now, and it's starting to make noise. Not a dwarf this time, though."

The hope was enough to choke Arrhae for a moment. She scrubbed the heels of her hands over her eyes. "Give Konra and Vir the new coordinates. Tr'Verih, aim for it. Oh, and send me the readouts on the star, Jaeil."

"Yes, Commander."

The numbers appeared at Arrhae's station, and she dove into them, barely noting — though approving — that Jaeil didn't forget to praise Engineering.

The Sunseed project had required speed, torpedoes, and beams. And while _Fve-Rhi-Sei_ was fast for a ship his size — being mostly engines and sensor platform — he wasn't as fast as the calculations required. He didn't have torpedoes, and the mines couldn't be aimed like torpedoes no matter how she wanted to use those explosive ones. And all he had for beams was a plasma turret.

However, if _another_ ship was already tickling the star into an ionic sneeze, _Fve-Rhi-Sei_ could help. And if they were very, very lucky, there was another ship (or ships) — at least as classified as the Coalition's _Shax_ — that had noticed _Fve-Rhi-Sei_ and wanted to provide him with some cover.

_Fve-Rhi-Sei_ rocked, and there was a faint metal scream from the ceiling. Arrhae looked up and back before she thought to keep her head down, and saw a trio of small explosions rip along Jaeil's rear display, showering sparks down. Jaeil shrieked — and tr'Verih whined, but didn't turn away from trying to dodge.

Fire-extinguishing foam was rising up from the back, blank display. Arrhae snapped, "Jaeil, what happened?!"

"Elements. Elements." Moaning and cringing down, the sensors officer tapped in commands. "We lost most of our sensors, Commander! The dish in front got dislodged and it ripped through all the rest."

From the intercom, t'Killis said, " _Got an air-leak back here. Roh's chasing it._ "

"Acknowledged. Jaeil, anywhere else losing air?"

"Ah, ah... Mess hall. Maybe the upper 'fresher. I'm not sure about the ladder-well, or the crew quarters... I think yours is still all right, Commander."

Small favors. "How long to that second star?"

"Five minutes now, Commander, if we could make a straight run."

She looked at her displays. Someone'd put the tractor mine back in. Good. She flicked a switch. "Engineering, a drop-start coming up! Tr'Verih, back to warp as soon as _Shax_ drops."

"Yuh," he said.

From the intercom, t'Killis said, " _Ready, but this had best be the last drop-start, t'Tei says. Containment's getting cranky._ "

"It will be," Arrhae promised quietly. _One way or another._

"Dropping!" tr'Verih called. Arrhae sent the tractor mine out. Jaeil wailed the start of something, and tr'Verih had them back in otherspace before she completed a word.

"Jaeil, did it grab them?" Arrhae demanded.

Panting and whimpering, the sensors officer bent over her station. "Y-yes, Commander. I think so. But they're back to warp now. And— and hailing us."

"To my console," Arrhae said, and tapped the square. Then she waited.

Captain Shon, on the display, glowered at her for a moment as well before saying, "No more clever remarks?"

"You haven't been appreciating them. It's very demoralizing."

"I'm not happy about this either. Look, you're losing air, your life-support's being drained to power your shields, and I'm not sure how much longer your ship's going to hold together. You can't even see where you're going anymore."

Arrhae realized that he'd assumed they'd changed course because they'd lost the sensors. She swallowed, and hoped whatever flickers of emotion she might have shown would be interpreted as fear. "I have to talk to my crew. I need five minutes." And she cut the connection.

"Commander?" Jaeil whimpered.

"Did I say I was surrendering? Did he even _ask_ , this time?" The intercom switch was terribly familiar under her hand by now. "Engineering, I'm sending you some data. We're going to stoop upon a star, at angles I am sending to tr'Verih and Konra's consoles. I want the warp drive configured as per my specifications. Do not ask questions and forget those numbers as soon as we're out of this mess."

The voice was tr'Ronu's. " _What madness are you ordering us into?!_ "

"It's this, or release the singularity, or become Coalition prisoners. So unless you've a secret fetish for antennae, my madness is our best hope for survival."

The ship shuddered. Jaeil said, "That—that shot was even less power. I think... they just want to keep our shields weak?"

"Or they're trying to hurry us into surrendering. T'Saii, get the warp drive adjusted! We have three minutes!"

" _On it, Commander. Roh, get out of my way._ "

Arrhae let the connection close. Nothing for her to do but wait. She swiveled her chair partway around. "Jaeil, if this doesn't work, have you thought of child-names?"

The other woman stared at her. Swallowed visibly, and turned her eyes to the display, where otherspace made the stars seem to streak past. "Kalah," she said.

Derived from the Name of Fire, that was. Just as, Arrhae realized, _Jaeil_ was derived from that of Air.

From the pilot's chair, tr'Verih added, "Kalah t'Verih, if we're about to die here."

It was the sort of declaration that should have included meaningful looks, but only Arrhae had the concentration to spare. Tr'Verih was too busy wobbling and spinning the ship, lest the Andorians make any "discussion" moot by disabling the warp nacelles. Jaeil was smiling and sniffling, her eyes closed and her cheeks wet with tears.

The ship jolted, then again. Arrhae pressed the switch. "Engineering, they are getting impatient. I could not buy much time."

" _One more minute!_ " t'Raedheol's voice answered.

"Mm. I'll try something." She looked up. "Tr'Verih, when the engines are ready, I want you skimming the star's corona at the fastest we can manage, at the angle I sent you. Don't stop for anything; if the warp-field collapses, we can't start it up again, that close. Jaeil, hail the _Shax_. On my console."

This time, the little square opened itself up. The Andorian captain said, "Shon here." He sounded oddly respectful. Gracious.

Arrhae took a breath. Closed her eyes. Took another breath, while her heartbeat chanted, _Stall, stall, stall._ "You understand," she said, "the Coalition's reputation is very... discouraging of surrender, Captain."

He kept his voice gentle, like someone trying to lure a half-wild bird to his hand. "You and your engineers would be interrogated, Commander. I can't countermand that. But that's all. My word on it."

She wondered if he realized that, if they had intended to surrender, the engineers would be suiciding even now, to prevent that exact interrogation from happening. Just as gently, she replied, "And would I wish to die, after such 'interrogation'?"

His antennae twisted entirely backwards for a moment, going flat against his pulled-back white hair. "Just drugs. No torture. No threats against your people." He frowned down at something on his chair's arm. "If you'd slow down to discuss this, I'd feel a lot happier, Commander."

Words flashed on her console, to one side: _engineering ready._

There was a peace upon her, like that upon the sword-stage in a tournament when it was all simple. When muscle and steel and reflexes were the only thing in the world, and she was content within her skin. Calm and serene, she said, "Please get word to Fleet. The child's name is Kalah t'Verih, and her father's clan may wish to remember her." She didn't bother to cut the communication as she looked up. "Tr'Verih. _Hna'h._ "

"Commander," he said, and dove for the sun.

Arrhae closed the connection to _Shax_ and hoped she'd remembered the calculations properly.


	51. Temkeshall

* * *

"They've broken off, Commander," Jaeil said. "They— I think they're staying at a safe range, to keep us from escaping."

"He suspects we're feinting." Arrhae almost wished they were. The ship was truly vibrating now — not the friendly, comforting hum of the engines and a well-contained singularity, but an unsettling, tooth-rattling jitter that suggested screws working themselves loose, and panels flying apart.

As if in answer to her imagination, more noises came from the ceiling. Arrhae looked behind herself as Jaeil reported, "D-damaged parts, Commander. We're losing more of the sensor array."

"How blind are we?"

"...I have some external cameras, sir." She waved at the display, where the star's corona was flaring in ways that seemed a visual representation of the "noise" the sensors had recorded.

"Do what you must to keep them from burning out as we approach."

"Going to instrumental only, Commander."

The numbers counted down.

_We are not fast enough. Not big enough. Not powerful enough._ Sunseed had reputedly taken two ships at a minimum, purpose-built.

But this star was already agitated. Arrhae had made compensations for their lesser speed. They didn't need to do more than scare the Andorians away.

They only needed to live.

_Fve-Rhi-Sei_ hit the corona. There was a horrible lurch, sucking them floor-wards, then another, and gravity stayed hard and heavy — though tr'Verih had somehow compensated in his own tiny movements at his station, forcing the computer-course steady. They weren't being crushed in the sun's immense gravity, at least, and that was success.

The numbers on her display jittered about, though the turbulence they represented was lost in the shaking and terrible noises the ship made as they pushed him closer to a star than he'd ever been meant for. Only the warp bubble protected them. Only speed would let it last long enough to help.

Jaeil was making sobbing, whimpering gasps, at her station. Arrhae hoped no one had broken anything in Engineering.

Their trajectory wasn't Sunseed's straight line; they were curving around the star, for Arrhae had predicted _Shax_ would hang back, and didn't want to meet the Coalition ship as _Fve-Rhi-Sei_ raced ahead of the storm they'd (hopefully) created.

The numbers shifted rapidly, blood-green in alarm, then steadied to amber. The gravity _bounced_ , going from too heavy to barely-present. And _Fve-Rhi-Sei_ was racing away from the star on a projected course, blind.

"Can you get anything from behind us?" Arrhae asked, above the lessened, but still distinct rattle of the ship around them.

Jaeil said, "I—I'll try." The display lit — flickering and static-filled — with a mere camera-view, which showed only the star at these speeds. Then a ghostly projection faded in, roiling towards them. Jaeil said, "A... a class four to six ion storm, Commander. We're outrunning it."

"Any sign of _Shax_?"

"No, Commander. But that doesn't mean anything. I don't think I could pick up anything smaller than an ion storm right now. They would have been over... here," she said, displaying a map, with a small Andorian-blue sigil on it — and their own cool green raptor-sigil along a dotted line. The ion storm was represented in a cloud of purple.

"Assume they didn't notice our curve?"

"They'll be..." Jaeil worked a moment, and the Coalition dagger moved. "Here, I think."

Arrhae slumped back in her chair, though the movement didn't have much weight to it. "The ion storm is likely between us?" she confirmed, for the flickering of the display was unpleasant to watch.

"It should be."

Arrhae nodded. "Tr'Verih, angle back the way we came, as much as we can while still outrunning the storm. We don't want _Shax_ coming around the side of it." And if they did... Honestly, by this time she might grant Captain Shon's so-gracious request for their surrender, if only to have a three-day nap in a quiet brig's cot.

"Understood," tr'Verih said. "Can you ask if Konra can take this stretch?"

"Yes, of course." And, wonder of wonders, the intercom worked, with little worse than the usual distortions and small popping noises. "Engineering, would Konra care to outrun the storm on tr'Verih's chosen heading?"

" _I—I'll ask,_ " t'Killis said. In the background, someone (quite possibly Konra) added, " _Tal Shiar imirrhlhhse'enh nohtho._ "

Arrhae ignored the insult and just waited for confirmation from tr'Verih that control had been handed over. Then she carefully unstrapped in the microgravity and pushed her way to where she'd stowed the flexible water containers. Integrity had held behind that panel, and soon she was delivering precious fluids to her bridge crew.

Something beeped at Jaeil's console. The woman went an ashy umber and croaked, "We— we're being hailed."

Arrhae turned herself, using the sensor-station as her anchor. "On the main screen," she said, mind blank.

The static-fogged image... was a Rihannsu man, in a Fleet uniform, saying something. Arrhae closed her eyes and was fairly sure she would have collapsed if there'd been any gravity to suck her down. Her response wobbled. "A-apologies mine, sir. Please... please repeat?"

With a slightly irritated tone, he said, "This is the _t'Rllailieu's Storm_. Who are you?"

She was glad she'd had some of that water. Her mouth would have been too dry to speak, by now. "Observational craft _Fve-Rhi-Sei_. Arrhae T'Solos commanding."

"And why, _Fve-Rhi-Sei_ , were you in that star's corona?"

"An Andorian ship was chasing us, the _Shax_. He... he has something to make him harder to see, on sensors. Not true cloaking. One of the border's observational satellites was malfunctioning, de-cloaking randomly. We had to destroy it to prevent the _Shax_ from taking it, and they were upon us before we could re-cloak. Our cloak was damaged, and we fled."

The man looked away, then back. "They're on the other side of that storm. What did you think you were _doing_?"

Arrhae took a few breaths and identified his real question, which was _How did you **know** to do that?!_ She answered, "I am the ward of the Tal Shiar's Director Hakeev, sir."

His face smoothed. "I see. Do you require assistance?"

"As most of our upper deck has no air, which leaves us one 'fresher at best, and only a small replicator... Yes, sir. We require assistance, and we thank you for it most willingly."

Again, he glanced to one side. "Can you maintain your speed and heading for another hour? The storm should abate by then."

She pushed off to her station, pressed the button, and said, "Engineering, another hour at this speed and heading. We've got a friendly ship who'll be able to help us, if we can do that."

The voice was male: D'liir. " _We can do that, Commander. We can do that._ "

Arrhae looked back to the display's camera and smiled. "I'm assured we'll manage, _t'Rllailieu's Storm_. Please inform us if your sensors pick up anything we need to know about; we're all but blind now."

"Understood, Commander T'Solos. _Storm_ out."

And though she wanted to curl up on the floor — or, rather, midair, slowly drifting floor-wards — Arrhae made herself go strap herself in. And give Engineering one final comment: "If Konra needs tr'Ronu or myself to take a shift, that can be done as well."

" _It'd have to be you, sir,_ " D'liir replied. " _Tr'Ronu's got a broken leg; t'Killis is dragging him to the Medbay. And... And Konra says you're not to touch the piloting controls, Commander._ "

"All things considered, D'liir, I cannot blame her. Bridge out." And Arrhae relaxed into the safety straps.


	52. Aihkhllaissir

* * *

When Arrhae was able to move again, she went to Engineering, discovered more sprains and strains than anyone had reported, and went to the Medbay to secure painkillers and splints. Alas, this required sidling past tr'Ronu, stretched out on the medical bed. Muzzy-eyed, he grabbed her sleeve as she tried to depart.

T'Killis was watching from the doorway. Arrhae told tr'Ronu, "Let go. I'm not here to visit you."

From the blur in his consonants, he'd been dosed with a general sedative instead of a more localized painkiller. "Who... who told you that t'Tei, t'Tei says..."

Even if he wasn't paying attention, t'Killis was. Arrhae said lightly, "Why, don't you remember being unconscious in here? I implanted subcutaneous microphones."

He went absolutely pallid, staring at her. Annoyingly, his fist tightened on her uniform's sleeve rather than going slack with surprise. "You... You..."

"You _believe_ me?" she asked, raising her eyebrows in exaggerated amazement. "I should have told you that my father was a powerful Vulcan telepath, and I have been reading your thoughts and memories from the very start!"

That worked better to loosen his grip. Arrhae yanked her sleeve free, and stepped out of range. "Or perhaps I am simply good at being quiet and listening from around corners," she finished. Then she rolled her eyes at t'Killis and left to tend to the rest of the crew.

*****

_T'Rllailieu's Storm_ turned out to be an under-crewed T'Varo. He probably held over-powered engines, but no one was offering _Fve-Rhi-Sei_ 's crew a tour of anything but the comparatively palatial Medbay, and the shuttlebay that poor _Fve-Rhi-Sei_ barely fit into. He would have been too tall for the hanger, if he'd had more than a few tattered remnants of his sensors.

Once they were inside with the hanger doors closed, and Arrhae had done the necessary greetings and thanks to Commander Haih (which was a blatant _nahi_ based off his iron-gray hair), she'd stepped to one side of the ramp while a pair of sturdy men came to remove tr'Ronu.

T'Killis followed, pausing as Commander Haih politely inquired if Arrhae would care to join him for dinner in a few hours. Being too tired to determine if Haih were angling for some kind of personal gratitude, as Admiral tr'Llhevil might have done, or simple courtesy... Arrhae nominated t'Killis for the honor: "For I am long past my shift's end, and fear I would disgrace myself by drowning in the soup."

Commander Haih didn't appear upset by the substitution, and took his leave. T'Killis watched him go, biting her lip, and muttered to Arrhae, "Your loss."

"Enjoy yourself and do our ship honor," Arrhae said, as she went back into _Fve-Rhi-Sei_ to tell her people that one of the _Storm_ 's crew was waiting to show them to spare bunks.

Jaeil and tr'Verih were on the bridge still, with the hatch just open enough for Arrhae to hear their voices. She supposed that she'd review the computer's transcript later, if the thing had survived enough to make one.

In Engineering, Arrhae squeezed past at least three other crew, barely noticing which ones, and dragged herself halfway up the ladder to the second level. Hooking an elbow into a rung, she said, "Outside, there is a crewman who will take you to spare bunks. And working 'freshers which, by reputation, may well be larger than a single seat. Go."

The room emptied with amazing speed. Once the floor was clear, Arrhae went back down the ladder; her own quarters could wait, perhaps. There was the Medbay's medical bed, after all. And she still had to decide about herding tr'Verih and Jaeil off the bridge.

"C-commander?" came a rather wet-sounding voice. Arrhae turned in time to have t'Saii fall into her arms, wailing nearly as much as Jaeil had on the bridge.

Happily, Arrhae was braced against the wall and didn't topple to the floor with the unexpected burden of her engineer. Instead, she leaned her head back, put her arms 'round t'Saii, and let the other woman sob onto her shoulder. It wasn't the shower she'd wanted, but she had no idea what emergencies might have been going on in Engineering, that hadn't been brought to her attention in that terrible flight.

Eventually, one of _Storm_ 's engineers — another man — came to volunteer to stand watch over _Fve-Rhi-Sei_ 's ill-used singularity. That broke the mood, whatever it had been, sufficiently for t'Saii to declare she would stay in her quarters on the ship. So Arrhae led her to them and gently shoved her in, with orders to get some rest.

After that, she pulled herself up the central ladder, discovered there was indeed air leaked back inside the second crew level, and went to the hatch that led down to the bridge. In the ceiling above it were several fist-sized holes; Arrhae was only glad the bridge itself hadn't lost atmosphere.

She kicked the hatch open, with the trick tr'Dreth had shown her so long ago, and called down, "Are you still there?"

After a pause, tr'Verih replied, "We are, Commander."

"Mm." Arrhae leaned on the wall and contemplated the likely size of the bunks that _Storm_ would offer. "If the memories aren't wretched, you can have my quarters. If there are any cameras or microphones in there, it's not from me letting them rest easy."

Another moment of silence, then some murmuring, and he called back up, "Our thanks, Commander. We'll take that offer."

"Just let me get my computer." The computer, its locking case, and then the _Storm_ 's commander could put her in a glass-walled aquarium for all she cared. She was going to sleep for a fiveday.

*****

In the end, official praise for keeping the Coalition from getting a cloaking device, and for providing scans of the _Shax_ , was tempered with chiding for the destroyed satellite and all the damage done to the ship — and the whole was put into a Highly Classified box due to how they'd escaped, which left everyone much as they'd started.

With the _Fve-Rhi-Sei_ requiring repairs, there was no question of whether they'd all get leave-time. Tr'Verih and Jaeil would go back to s'Verih, for him to petition his clan to adopt both child and mother. (Jaeil told Arrhae, privately, "Maybe he's not what anyone would call a good husband, but I think he'll be a good father." Arrhae had only shrugged, said, "He'd better be," and awkwardly patted Jaeil's shoulder.)

Tr'Ronu would be staying at a hospital for a while; the broken leg had been sufficiently nasty as to require special exercises to regain full use. Nearly everyone else simply made vague comments about returning to families and clans or visiting friends. (Tr'Aeyn added that D'liir would be reachable at his clan's manor, with such a matter-of-fact tone that Arrhae wondered if they were as much a couple as t'Raedheol and t'Tei, and it simply hadn't been mentioned anywhere in their records. Or, on consideration, if it might be something new, sparked by the recent trauma.)

(Or perhaps they were just friends. So long as it didn't become ship-drama, Arrhae _did. not. care._ )

At the ground-side port, with the crew scattering in all directions within the cavernous, lightly-crowded hallway, t'Saii paused. "Commander?"

"Mm?" Arrhae kept turning her head, alert for a familiar Klingon face amid the various travellers. She'd been told she'd be picked up at the ground-port.

"Ah, if you have time — I mean, if you're bored, while the ship's being repaired..."

That was worth focusing on the quarter-human engineer, head tilted. T'Saii had a greener tinge than usual in her cheeks, though perhaps it was just the sunlight coming through the great glass windows. Somewhat breathlessly, she finished, "If you wanted to visit, I'm sure grandmother would make you welcome!"

Since few people actually enjoyed making Tal Shiar "welcome," and certainly not with that tone of voice, it left Arrhae blinking for a few heartbeats. Eventually, she recovered enough to say, somewhere between gentle and wry, "I think you should ask your grandmother, first, for she would have to send the invitation through my guardian."

T'Saii turned a somewhat different shade of green, more blotchy and uneven. "Oh."

It made Arrhae smile crookedly, and she experimented with reaching out and gripping t'Saii's shoulder. "Yes, exactly." A flash of Klingon-brown skin and familiar gray braids caught her eye, and then the tall man beside the old Klingon _hru'hfe_.

Arrhae's smile faded and she gave t'Saii a push. "Don't be seen," she murmured through barely-parted, barely-moving lips. She didn't watch if she was obeyed, but set off immediately in the proper direction, dragging her unwieldy, wheeled crate behind her.

Director Hakeev met her with his arms open. "My dear ward," he exclaimed, "you have no idea what a relief it is to see you safe and well!"

With him in such a mood, there was really nothing for it but to step closer and allow herself to be embraced while Karana took the crate's handle. Arrhae made appropriate polite noises of greeting, muffled against his chest and arms, and resigned herself to being made much of. It was better than the alternatives, after all.

And when she was bundled off to the flyer, his arm around her shoulder in a display of warm feelings, she could agree that it had been a long, tiring trip; give an expected minimal attention to his talk of the dinner that awaited; and eventually close her eyes and tilt her head back while he held her hand.

None of it could touch the memory of the stars, bright and gleaming Fire in the dark.


	53. Epilogue

* * *

_The long, stubby-winged Coalition ship slid through the void with — if not stealth — assurance that it was the biggest thing around. The Star Empire's claimed border was some hours behind it, and two Imperial satellites had already been destroyed by the expediency of noticing their approximate location (when they de-cloaked to transmit an alert) and bombarding the area with torpedoes. It was crude, but there was every chance the Star Empire — which had suffered yet another coup nearly two years ago — still hadn't recovered enough to do more than send angry diplomats to the border to shake their greenblooded fists in the Coalition's direction. Or that was what certain of the Council of Generals thought, anyway, and what **Kumari** was there to test._

_So, to the **Kumari** 's captain, that a Romulan ship would de-cloak was unsurprising. That it would fire upon the **Kumari** was well within predictions._

_That it would de-cloak almost on top of **Kumari** , lay a strip of plasma down their back, angle sharply "up"-wards to avoid any return fire, and somehow wind up slewing around so that its plasma cannons faced "down"..._

_Well, that was attitude and sharp piloting, to say the least._

_The Andorian captain answered the Romulans' hail. "Captain Shon of the Coalition ship **Kumari**..." His voice trailed off, mouth still slightly open, and he cocked his head back with unexpected recognition, antennae spreading wide in surprise._

_The small Romulan woman smiled, crossing one high-booted leg over the other. "This is the Imperial flagship **Kinaen** , Arrhae T'Solos commanding. I see you've done well for yourself, Captain Shon. However, your navigation still leaves something to be desired. Your side of the border is **that** way." She pointed._

_"Commander T'Solos," Shon replied. "Why aren't you dead?"_

_"I hadn't run out of clever remarks," she said, then made a gesture and her ship cloaked again._

_The ensuing battle proved that the previously-unknown type of Warbird was agile, probably more fragile than **Kumari** , of comparable firepower, and possessed the ability to drop black holes on things. Things like **Kumari** 's prow. When a pair of T'Varo Warbirds showed up to help, it became prudent to correct the "navigational error" and return to Coalition space._

_(On the way out, Shon broadcast an invitation to dinner, for the **Kinaen** 's commander._

_**Kinaen** de-cloaked — on the Romulan side — long enough for T'Solos to say, "I'm told men should throw flowers, not torpedoes. So I think I will be busy that night.")_


	54. Translations, Notes, Etc.

* * *

Where I have been unable to find anyone else's word for something, I have, in the grand tradition of fanficcers, Made Something Up — usually by smushing some close-but-not-quite words together.

### Chapter Titles

1: Notes and Prologue - Ne Haud u'Hra'nuar Fviudhevha (Literally "Inferior writing and before-story")  
2: Yyaio - Deadsoul, zombie (Vulcan)  
3: Fve-Rhi-Sei - 6-5-3  
4: Khina u'Saevha - Ship and Crew  
5: Iernrae'edhir - Instructions  
6: Ri'yika - Vicious she-beast (contraction of ri'hnoiyika)  
7: Ebhæelhir - Annoyances  
8: Rea's Perfectly Functional Workboots - Bhæht'llæssir Abhhilir're Ihlluev're s'Rea  
9: Ahyan Hwyej - Inspection Continues  
10: Hfaei Fraeta - Send Report  
11: Fvadt - Damn  
12: ir-Aeleir - Space-born.  
13: Etrifvenir Ih'indaere - Emergency Repairs  
14: Hifvai'rhe - Medbay  
15: Ssiun Aehaavha - For Dignity  
16: Llhnaeri i Ahyanir - Returning to Inspections  
17: Aehfvisam, Temaehfvi - Obedience, Obedience  
18: Na Daetra Argeresem - The Problem (of) Insubordination  
19: Saeihr'hhaonn - Star Noise  
20: Bhæhtir - Chores  
21: Temdrusae'in Agollhifvir - Nutrition Scans (More literally, Nourish-scans, if I read my notes correctly.)  
22: Hrouri Laehvalir - Chasing Shadows  
23: Ehl'temssuajir Maihiilir - Amusing Misunderstandings  
24: Faehhtir Lacendtir Flaeon Faehhtir - Trivial Secrets Remain Secrets  
25: Erhiuri - Eavesdropping  
26: Daetrar Ih'ithiolaefaur - Logistical Problems  
27: Mos'hnaithuri na Thrai - Collaring the Thrai (aka "belling the cat")  
28: Temnei - Analysis  
29: Anaesu - Discipline  
30: Aihkh'llaiss Moskhent'asi - Satisfactory Aftermath  
31: Temnei, Stev Rihannsu'ri - Analysis, Now of People  
32: Susse-kllhe - She-worm  
33: Iernrae'edhir... u'Aehhenelhir - Instructions... and Plans  
34: Temdeleth - Protection  
35: Yyaio Hhaes - Drunk Yyaio  
36: Na Thaemnae - The Test  
37: Khelhaesno - Safety  
38: Thalk-Hiafvarlai - Bedrest  
39: Ehlrhir - Questions  
40: Tlhei Nnerhai, Rekkhai - Command Yours, Sir. (Other translations: "Command is yours, sir" or "Your orders (are obeyed), sir.")  
41: Hiish'le - Jealousy  
42: Talla u'Kraiir - Duty and Habit  
43: H'rau Bheinuvha- On (the) Border  
44: Na Ekhaid Nhrair Ihirvædhleri're - The Universe Became Bored (polite mode)  
45: Na Ekhaid Hwyejri Ihirvædhleri're - The Universe Continues (to be) Bored (polite mode)  
46: Imirrhlhhseri Ryak'na Ataehkh! - Buggering Filthy Garbage!  
47: Jolan'tru, Riov Shon - Hello, Captain Shon  
48: Eihss'nhaai - Sunseed  
49: Saj Flaiihel'siu - (a) Small Respite  
50: Glopai Saeihrevha Mibh - Stoop Upon (a) Star  
51: Temkeshall - Escape  
52: Aihkh'llaissir - Aftermaths (lit after-struggles.)  
53: Epilogue - Aihkh'enudh (lit: after-monologue)

### More Notes

• Rea has "chore-boots."

• _Faehhtir Lacendtir Flaeon Faehhtir - Trivial Secrets Remain Secrets:_ This is the "punchline" to a metaphor, suggesting that someone who keeps small secrets from you might keep bigger ones from you as well. With the new Order of Complete Openness from _Picard_ , it's probably one of _their_ metaphors, presuming something similar exists in this timeline. (...completely honest Romulan warrior-nuns? HECK YEAH THEY SHOULD EXIST.)

• _Logistics_ Take _coordination, (n) ithiolha'edh_ and _supply, (n) aefau; (v) irrhaefau_ , and get _Logistics (Supply-coordination) (noun): ithiolaefau_ , and the adjectival form: _ih'ithiolaefau_. Which gives an "ih-ith" sound, so that's gonna fall out of use as the word gets the rough edges smoothed over by the water of conversation, to _ihiolaefau_ or _ihlaefau_ , depending on dialect/accent.

• _Talla u'Kraiir - Duty and Habit:_ The word I picked for "Habit(s)" is derived from _action, (n) iireaedh_ and _regular, (adj) dyyhkrai_. But "Regular Action" is _Dyyhkrai'iireadh_. Come _on_. I thus decided on Kraiir, and declared it to be a rare "singular and plural are the same" word, like sheep/sheep or moose/moose in English.

• _Thaemnae:_ For this one, I futzed around with _trial, (n) temhlmnae_ and _learn, (v) thaebe_.

• _Imirrhlhhseri:_ While most translations seem to think this is "the f-bomb," I would suspect that sex alone is not really enough to be pearl-clutch shocking to Rihannsu (and it was definitely viewed as an "escalation word" in _The Romulan Way_ ). The nuances are probably something like "buggery without lube." Which a dirt-eating worm would likely not stand for, indeed.

• _Eihss'nhaai - Sunseed:_ Spoilers for _My Enemy, My Ally_.

• _Glopai Saeihrevha Mibh - Stoop Upon (a) Star:_ There was no word for what a winged predator does when diving to catch prey. Tragic. Therefore, I took _fall, (v) copai_ and _hunt, (v) glohha_ , to become _Glopai,_ "hunt-fall." Yes, I could have done copaiglohha/glohhacopai, but sweet Elements, that's _five_ syllables? For a concept of _swiftness_? No. "Glo" would rhyme with "co," which makes it more "intuitive" to smush it together that way, rather than cohha. It's still three syllables, alas, though I suspect ai (ah-ee) becomes more like the i in "sigh" or "pie."

• _Aihkh'llaissir - Aftermaths:_ Pronounced similarly to Achilles-ir, which amuses me, because cross-(con)language puns amuse me easily. "Why are the humans talking about... the heel to an after-struggle? Do they think of it as going from the toes to to the heels? Why do they talk about it as a vulnerability? Someone might attack while you've calmed down and thought the situation over?"

• At close to 80,000 words, this is a freakin' small _novel_. ...uh, sorry?


End file.
